Things That Go Whump in the Night
by angstydaydreams
Summary: John wakes up in the middle of the night with a tummy ache. Shep Whump ensues...
1. Chapter 1

So I got attacked by this little plot bunny and just had to write it. It is pure Shep whump…you've been warned LOL.

I am no medical professional, just doing the best I can to fake it.

As always thanks to RinkRat for the amazing beta. Any mistakes that remain are purely mine.

_Things That Go Whump in the Night_

John rolled over in bed. He was hot and sweaty and tangled up in the sheets and his stomach hurt; a dull ache right over his belly button. It felt like he'd been hit, except he hadn't been. His last off world mission had been all about the food. John and his team had been invited to the Dalnidian's annual feast, and John had been obligated to take his team and go. Hardly a hardship since the Dalnidians produced some of the best food John had ever tasted.

John pressed his hand into his stomach and frowned. Maybe too much food; it certainly wasn't agreeing with him. A pain shot through his belly, radiating to his side. He curled protectively into a fetal position and the pain subsided; but the nausea didn't. He stretched his legs out and the pain returned with a vengeance. Drawing his legs back against his chest, John breathed slowly in and out. He had two choices. Somehow get himself up and to the bathroom so he could throw up in the toilet or stop himself from throwing up at all. Since he couldn't change position without the agony in his stomach returning, he went with the latter, trying to breathe through the nausea until it eased off.

It didn't work. John clenched his jaw convulsively as the urge to vomit overpowered him. Stomach heaving, he pushed himself to the side of the bed, throwing up onto the floor. He groaned miserably. He'd had indigestion before, but nothing like this. This felt more like the time he'd been fifteen and thought it would be okay to eat the rest of the hamburger he'd left out on the counter several hours before. He'd never been so sick in his life. Until now.

He breathed in deeply. He just had to ride it out; food poisoning couldn't last forever. Another wave of nausea swept over him. His stomach muscles protested as he retched helplessly. His head dropped limply to the mattress when it finally passed. John closed his eyes. He just needed to sleep it off. He'd be better in the morning. He curled tightly into a ball and tried to make his body relax.

But the ache in his gut kept throbbing. His skin felt cold and clammy, he was sticky with sweat. He knew he needed to call up to the infirmary. He just didn't want to. He willed his body to feel better. He would not be sick. He would not be sick. He repeated it like a mantra, held on to it as another stabbing pain shot down his side.

"Shit!" he muttered. "Shit, shit, shit."

Resignedly, he reached to his side table and grabbed his ear piece.

"Carson," he gritted out, moaning as another surge of pain clamped onto his stomach.

"_Colonel Sheppard?"_ Carson responded, concern evident in his voice. "_Are you all right, lad?"_

"Not…really," John grunted.

"_Can you make it up to the infirmary?"_

"Ummm…" John's hand clenched around the ear piece as he audibly heaved for the third time over the side of the bed.

"_All right, son. Hold tight. I'm coming to you._"

"Mmm…kay," John dug his forehead into the mattress.

"_What are your symptoms Colonel?"_ Carson's voice was breathless as he moved quickly through the city to John's quarters.

"Stomach..hurts. It's like a knife…in the gut…really. Vomiting…Pretty sure I…have a fever," John panted. "Could be food…poisoning…I guess."

"_All right, just hold on Colonel. We're almost there."_

"We?" John cringed. We meant a medical team. He wasn't that sick, was he? He just had a stomach ache. A really bad stomach ache, sure, but still. He didn't need to be carted up to the infirmary on a gurney. "You know, I'm sure I'm fine Carson." Another round of vomiting proved the lie to his words.

"_I'm sure you're not Colonel," _Carson said dryly.

John heard the door to his quarters slide open, heard the clatter of the gurney as it was brought inside, and then felt Carson sit down on the edge of the bed across from him.

"All right," Carson touched John's shoulder. "Let's have a look at you. Can you roll over for me lad?"

"I'd rather not." John pressed his hand to his side.

Carson motioned to one of the medics, who knelt down on the other side of the bed. "Help me roll him, please."

John managed to barely contain the groan as he was rolled unceremoniously onto his back. But when Carson began to firmly press down on his stomach and side with his hand, John let out a harsh cry of pain.

"Sorry Colonel," Carson said sympathetically. "I'll have to get you under the scanner to be sure, but my suspicion is you're suffering from appendicitis. I'm afraid it's going to have to come out."

"You're sure it's not just food poisoning?" John asked hopefully.

Carson moved the gurney to the side of John's bed. He and the medic gently helped John up, transferring him to the gurney.

"I'll have to get you under the scanner to be sure." Carson grabbed the blanket from the foot of the gurney, placing it over John. Then he loosely cinched the straps over John's legs and waist. "But you're definitely feverish and extremely tender over McBurney's point. I'm afraid you're most likely in for some emergency surgery tonight."

"I'd prefer a diagnosis of food poisoning." John's face went green as his stomach cramped.

"Nauseous?" Carson asked, digging into one of his medical bags.

"Mmmm…" John breathed.

Carson pulled out an I.V. kit and a syringe of medication. "Just a little stick," Carson warned soothingly as he prepped John's hand for the I.V. He smoothly inserted the needle into John's skin. He then removed the needle from the catheter and connected the tubing. After efficiently taping the I.V. in place, he injected the contents of the syringe into one of the ports.

"That should help with the nausea Colonel." Gently Carson patted John's shoulder. "All right, let's get you up to the infirmary."

John closed his eyes as the gurney rolled down the hallway. Staring at the passing ceiling had begun to make him dizzy and whatever Carson had given him was also making him sleepy.

The next thing he knew, they were in the infirmary, and Carson and an orderly were transferring him from the gurney to the scanner.

"All right then Colonel, let's have a look at ye," Carson started the scanner.

John closed his eyes again as the scanner moved down his body. The pain and the nausea had both receded. His stomach was just a distant ache, and he felt himself begin to drift off. Hands under his shoulders and legs jolted him back to awareness. He felt himself lifted back to the gurney, felt hands pulling his sweats and shirt from his body. He shivered. Someone fitted his arms into the sleeves of a gown and a blanket was drawn up to his waist.

"Colonel?" Carson squeezed his shoulder.

John opened his eyes to find Carson staring down at him kindly.

"I'm afraid it's what I thought Colonel. Your appendix is inflamed. We have to take it out, the sooner the better. We're prepping you for surgery now. In a few hours, you'll be right as rain, I promise ye." Carson gave John's shoulder one more reassuring squeeze.

"Mm..kay, Doc," John sighed, too tired to protest.

"I'm going to let Elizabeth know what's going on and then I'll go scrub up. I'll see you in theatre, okay?"

"Hey, Doc," John reached up and grabbed Carson's hand. "Don't tell my team yet. Let them sleep, okay?"

"Okay son," Carson smoothly disengaged his hand from John's grip. He nodded to the orderlies and then moved aside, tapping his earpiece.

John's hand dropped heavily to the bed of the gurney,and then they were moving again. John rolled his head to the side. The infirmary walls were a blur of motion. They passed through a set of double doors. John's eyelids were heavy and he found himself unable to keep them open. Once again he felt himself lifted and moved. But this time he was moved to a cold, hard surface. Again he shivered. Someone pulled the top of his gown down to his waist and he felt sticky pads being attached to his chest. He heard a heart monitor flare to life. He felt something cold and wet being rubbed on his stomach. Someone took his hand and placed a pulse ox monitor on his finger.

John didn't know how much time had passed, but the next time he opened his eyes, Carson was there again. Everything but his blue eyes was hidden beneath gown, mask and gloves.

"You ready Colonel?" Carson asked, catching John's hazel eyes with his own. At John's nod, Carson said, "Okay then. Let's put him under."

Something warm passed through the vein in his hand.

"Colonel, count back from one hundred for me," the anesthesiologist said.

"One hundred, ninety-nine…ninety-eight…ninety-seven…ninety…"

And then everything went dark.

He wasn't sure what came back first: sound or feeling. He felt a painful tugging at his side at about the same time he heard the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor. He felt cool air under his nose and heard Carson say his name. He opened his eyes, and immediately wished he hadn't. He felt himself rolled over onto his side and he retched into an emesis basin hastily shoved under his chin. Someone wiped his mouth with a cool cloth.

John groaned as he was carefully repositioned on his back.

"Take it easy Colonel," Carson soothed. "Just a wee bit of a reaction to the anesthesia. Hold on while we give you something for the nausea. The surgery went just fine. Good thing we got you in when we did, though. That appendix was ready to burst."

John breathed in deeply through the nasal cannula. "I was really hoping it was just food poisoning."

"How's your pain son?" Carson asked as he injected the nausea medication into John's I.V.

"Hurts," John grimaced, "but it's better than it was."

"I can take care of that," Carson assured him. "The best thing you can do right now is sleep."

"I don't think that'll be a problem," John sighed heavily as the medications began kicking in.

"I'll check in on you later lad," Carson smiled, patting his patient gently on the shoulder.

"Mmmm…kay," John mumbled.

Unable to keep his eyes open any longer, John drifted into a peaceful sleep.

Fin (?)

A/N: I'm still deciding whether or not to continue this little bugger. I have an idea for a segment from Carson's POV. If you want a continuation, let me know and I'll probably write it.


	2. Chapter 2

First I want to thank everyone for reading. And a very special thanks to all of you who left reviews. I'm so happy you enjoyed my little one-off and that you actually want more. This chapter is Carson's POV. I hope you like it. Some of it is a re-tread of Chapter 1, but I thought it would be fun to get inside of Carson's head for some of those moments.

And to RinkRat, my awesome beta, thank you so much for taking the time out of your busy schedule to edit this.

_Carson_

Carson didn't mind working the night shift. Usually he could take advantage of the quiet to get caught up on his charting, along with all the other paperwork that went with being CMO of Atlantis.

"_Carson."_

Carson sat up straight, immediately alert. He tapped his earpiece. "Colonel Sheppard? Are you all right, lad?"

"_Not…really."_

Crap, Carson thought. The Colonel sounded terrible. Carson rose out of his seat, snapping his fingers at a medic walking nearby.

"Can you make it up to the infirmary?" Carson asked John, even though he already knew the answer. If the Colonel could make it on his own two feet, he'd already be here. He wouldn't be calling from his quarters in the middle of the night.

A garbled mumble followed by the distinct sound of retching put Carson on the move. He snagged a gurney and a medical bag even as he motioned the medic to follow him.

"All right, son. Hold tight. I'm coming to you." Carson reassured him.

"_Mmm…kay_." John's muffled voice came weakly over the radio.

"What are your symptoms Colonel?" Carson asked, shoving the gurney into the transporter.

"_Stomach..hurts. It's like a knife…in the gut…really. Vomiting…Pretty sure I…have a fever…Could be food…poisoning…I guess." _John's voice came in short gasps.

"All right, just hold on Colonel. We're almost there." Carson and the medic broke into a jog as they exited the transporter. The gurney's wheels clacked against the stone hallway floor.

"_We?" _

Carson couldn't help but smile sympathetically at the sudden apprehension in John's voice.

"_You know, I'm sure I'm fine Carson."_

Another round of vomiting belied the Colonel's words.

"I'm sure you're not Colonel," Carson rolled his eyes at John's stubborn streak. He was lucky John had called him at all. And that alone told Carson all he needed to know about John's condition: he was in trouble.

Carson hit the emergency override on John's door and stepped inside, moving quickly to John's bed. The medic followed with the gurney.

John was curled into a protective ball, his back to the door. His body was rigid with pain. Carson carefully sat down on the bed, gently touching John's shoulder. "All right. Let's have a look at you. Can you roll over for me lad?"

"I'd rather not." John grit out.

Carson motioned the medic to the other side of John's bed. He rested the back of his hand on John's forehead and shook his head in concern. John had to be running a temp of at least 101. John held his hand rigidly against his lower abdomen. His eyes were clamped shut and the evidence of his nausea was all over the floor.

"Help me roll him please." Carson firmly pressed his hands against John's shoulder and with the medic's help, forced John onto his back. He saw his patient's face go pale as a wave of pain swept over him from the movement. "Easy, son," he murmured. John clenched his jaws, and Carson knew he was fighting to keep himself from crying out.

As gently as he could, Carson palpated John's abdomen with his hands. When he reached John's lower right side, John's face drained of color and he let out a strangled yelp.

"Sorry Colonel," Carson stood up and snagged the gurney, setting his medical bag on the floor. "I'll have to get you under the scanner to be sure, but my suspicion is you're suffering from appendicitis. I'm afraid it's going to have to come out."

Carson could see the denial all over the Colonel's face, but he'd seen enough cases of appendicitis in his years before Atlantis that he was almost one hundred percent certain he'd have John on his operating room table before the night was out.

Gently, Carson and the medic helped John move to the gurney. John fell back against the pillows, exhausted from the effort. "I'd prefer a diagnosis of food poisoning." John breathed deeply, his face going ashen.

Carson dug into his bag, pulling out an I.V. kit and medication. As he got the I.V. situated, the medic placed the thermometer in John's ear. The medic glanced at Carson as the instrument beeped.

"102 Doc," he said.

John's eyes were closed, his face set in an effort to keep the nausea at bay.

"This should help son," Carson soothed as he injected the medication into the I.V. port. He watched his patient carefully. John's respirations, though slightly shallow, were steady and even. Carson placed two fingers on John's inner wrist, feeling for his pulse, which though slightly elevated was also steady and even. The distress on John's face had already begun to ease, thanks to the medication.

Satisfied his patient was stable for transport, Carson nodded to the medic. They lifted the gurney to full height and began moving it quickly down the hall. Carson called ahead to his team in the infirmary, instructing them to get the scanner ready along with the operating theatre in case his preliminary diagnosis turned out to be correct. If John did indeed have appendicitis, there was no time to waste. John's appendix could already be so inflamed that it could burst at any time. The last thing he wanted to worry about was peritonitis if the appendix burst, releasing pus and bacteria into John's abdominal cavity.

They swung the gurney into the infirmary, heading straight for the scanner. A medical team was already waiting to help move John from the gurney to the scanner's table. John's hazel eyes blearily opened as they jostled him during the move.

"All right then Colonel. Let's have a look at ye." Carson studied the readout from the scanner as it slid over John's body. Not surprisingly, the results confirmed what he'd already suspected. John's appendix was definitely inflamed. He shook his head. For the illness to have progressed this far, John had to have been feeling the symptoms for some time. Stomach pangs. Nausea. Fever. And he hadn't said a word until the condition had gotten so bad even John couldn't deny it any longer.

Keeping his irritation at John's stubbornness in check, Carson walked to John's gurney, patting him reassuringly on the shoulder. The last thing John needed right now was a lecture. That would come later. "I'm afraid it's what I thought Colonel. Your appendix is inflamed. We have to take it out, the sooner the better. We're prepping you for surgery now. In a few hours, you'll be right as rain, I promise ye."

"Mmm…kay." John grunted his assent. Carson could see John was quickly losing the fight to keep his eyes open.

"I'm going to let Elizabeth know what's going on and then I'll go scrub up. I'll see you in theatre, okay?" Carson nodded to his medical team to begin moving John into the OR.

"Hey Doc!" John's eyes flew open. He reached out and grabbed Carson's hand. Carson turned his attention back to his patient, who was struggling to keep his eyes focused. "Don't tell my team yet. Let them sleep, okay?"

"Okay son." Carson smoothly disengaged his hand from John's grip, which wasn't hard because John had only a very limp hold. John's eyes blinked, and then closed again.

Carson motioned the orderlies to move. He tapped his earpiece, waking up Dr. Elizabeth Weir.

"_Yes, Carson. What is it?"_ Elizabeth's voice was slurred with sleep.

"Nothing to be overly alarmed about Dr. Weir, but Colonel Sheppard is about to go into the operating theatre…"

"_What?!"_ Elizabeth cut Carson off. _"He wasn't even off world."_

"No, I'm afraid it's a bit more mundane than the medical emergencies we're used to with Colonel Sheppard." Carson explained. "His appendix is inflamed and I need to operate to remove it."

"_His appendix?"_ Elizabeth said startled, but now fully awake.

"I really have to get into surgery Elizabeth." Carson said gently, moving even as he spoke towards the sink to scrub in.

"_Of course,"_ Elizabeth said contritely. _"I'll be right there."_

"Oh!" Carson said, nearly forgetting the Colonel's instructions. "Colonel Sheppard asked that his team not be told until morning. It seemed important to him that they not be woken."

"_Okay…"_ Elizabeth said, puzzled.

"The surgery should just take an hour Elizabeth, barring complications." Carson assured her. "There's no rush luv."

He signed off, setting his earpiece aside as he finished scrubbing up. A scrub nurse helped him into his gown and gloves and he headed inside.

Colonel John Sheppard was one of the strongest and bravest men Carson had ever met. The man had saved Carson's life more times than he could count. John was larger than life, but half naked on Carson's operating table John's hazel eyes registered a rare vulnerability. Carson knew that loss of control wasn't an easy thing for the Colonel to withstand. So he did the only thing he could do, he put the control back in Colonel Sheppard's hands.

"Are you ready Colonel?" Carson asked, catching and holding John's gaze.

Carson saw John's eyes steady, saw the steel determination flow back in, even if just for a moment. John nodded his assent and Carson motioned to Del, his anesthesiologist, to begin. Within moments, John's eyes lost focus. As John slipped into unconsciousness, Del tipped John's chin back, parted John's lips with the laryngoscope and inserted the breathing tube. Satisfied the ventilator was breathing properly for his anesthetized patient, Del nodded at Carson.

Carson took a deep breath and held out his hand. "Scalpel."

The scalpel slid easily through John's skin. Blood beaded along the incision line. With practiced skill, his nurses suctioned away the blood and retracted the skin. Carson cut through muscle and tissue until he exposed the large intestine and finally revealed the appendix. Carson sucked in a breath. The diseased organ was an angry red. It kicked Carson and his team into overdrive, determined to remove it before it burst.

Carson didn't think he breathed again until he and his team had successfully extracted the appendix. After dropping the organ into a container, Carson then efficiently tied off the cecum, the top of the large intestine.

"All right, let's close him up." Under his mask, Carson smiled at his team. An appendectomy was about as normal and routine as a surgery got but Carson had learned to never take any surgery for granted. As Carson inserted the last stitch, he let the nurses apply the dressings.

Carson moved to the head of the operating table. John's vitals were strong and steady. Carson rested a hand on John's shoulder and bent down. "Well done son," he said encouragingly, gently patting John's shoulder.

Carson glanced up at Del. "Let's bring him up, shall we?"

Del injected the medication to counteract the anesthetics into one of John's I.V. ports. Carson pulled his mask down, critically watching John's monitors. They would only extubate when John had recovered enough from the anesthetic to begin breathing again on his own. They preferred to do the extubation while in the OR and Carson didn't anticipate any complications that would force them to move John into the recovery room still intubated.

Carson had performed so many surgeries over the years that he'd lost count. But it was still a strange thing for him to operate on a man who he generally thought of as one of the best friends he'd ever had. It was the same for any member of John's team. John, Rodney, Ronon, Teyla and Elizabeth he counted as family. There were days it was hard to maintain the professional distance necessary to do his job. And yet, he just had to remind himself how much they counted on him to do just that and somehow it became a little easier.

"We've got good respiratory function Dr. Beckett," Del said, pulling Carson from his reverie.

"All right then, let's extubate and get him into recovery." Carson said, his attention fully back with the task at hand.

Efficiently Del removed the breathing apparatus. He placed an oxygen mask over John's nose and mouth. The anesthetics would cause John to breathe shallowly for a time; he would need oxygen until his lungs fully recovered from the muscle relaxants.

They practically rolled right over Elizabeth as they moved John out of the operating theatre. She'd been hovering just outside the doors.

"How's he doing?" she asked anxiously, her eyes following John as they moved him into the recovery area.

"He's just fine, luv." Carson gently rubbed Elizabeth's shoulder. "Came through it like a champion. He should be waking up from the anesthesia soon."

"Oh good," she said distractedly, hovering as near to John's gurney as she could get. "That's good."

"Give us some time to get him settled," Carson gently but firmly moved Elizabeth back. One of the nurses pulled the privacy curtain around John's gurney. Anesthesia nearly always made John extremely nauseous and miserable. The last thing he needed was an audience.

"You should probably go fill in Rodney, Ronon and Teyla," Carson suggested. "By the time you get back, I'm sure we'll have made John more comfortable."

After Elizabeth walked away, Carson slipped inside the privacy curtains and set about waking up his patient. His nurses had replaced the oxygen mask with a nasal cannula as John's SAT's continued to improve. Carson leaned over the bed and began calling John's name. As he expected, John's immediate reaction to consciousness was to vomit. Quickly his team eased John onto his side and placed an emesis basin under his chin.

Carson murmured reassuringly to his patient while he injected anti-nausea meds into John's I.V.

"I was really hoping it was just food poisoning," John mumbled, blinking up at Carson blearily.

Carson smiled. "How's your pain son?" He stared at John with an expression he hoped indicated he would brook no stubborn denials and to his surprise, John offered none.

"It hurts," John winced. "But not as bad as before."

"I can take care of that." Carson squeezed John's shoulder. "The best thing you can do right now is sleep."

It didn't take long after Carson injected the pain meds for John's eyelids to slide closed. His breathing evened out; the heart monitor beeped steadily. Settling into a chair, Carson propped his feet up on a nearby desk. One of the nurses brought him the charts he'd been working on earlier, and with one eye on John's vitals and the other on his charting, Carson kept watch on his friend as night slipped into day.

Tbc…


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you to everyone for reading!! I've been having a lot of fun writing this, so I'm glad you're enjoying it.

Special thanks to everyone who has left reviews. As a writer, I thrive on feedback, so I appreciate you taking the time to do that.

A very special thank you to RinkRat, my beta, for once again finding time in her busy schedule to edit this. Any errors that remain are mine and mine alone.

This is a bit of a long chapter since I tried to give every member of the team a little something. Thanks for reading.

_The Team_

Elizabeth leaned against her desk and smiled wearily at Rodney, Ronon and Teyla. "Thanks for meeting me here," she said.

"Where's Sheppard?" Ronon asked suspiciously.

"That's what I want to talk to you about." Elizabeth motioned the team to the chairs in her office. None of them moved.

"Is Colonel Sheppard all right?" Teyla asked, her eyes full of concern.

"Colonel Sheppard took ill early this morning," Elizabeth began.

"What do you mean, ill? We had dinner last night. He was just fine. What's wrong with him? And how early this morning? It's already eight and you're just telling us now? Where the hell's Carson?" Rodney bombarded Elizabeth.

"Rodney!" Elizabeth held up her hands. "Let me finish, please."

Rodney crossed his arms and stared belligerently at his boss.

"Dr. Weir," Teyla glared mildly at Rodney. "Please continue."

Elizabeth nodded at Teyla. She could feel Ronon staring daggers at her, so she focused her gaze on the one friendly face in the room.

"Dr. Beckett diagnosed Colonel Sheppard with acute appendicitis. He operated a few hours ago and successfully removed the appendix before it burst. Colonel Sheppard is resting comfortably right now and Dr. Beckett will let us know when it's okay to visit." Elizabeth explained.

"Appendicitis?" Rodney stared at Elizabeth dumbfounded. "Well of all the things."

"What is…appendicitis?" Teyla asked.

"It's an organ at the beginning of the large intestine. About here." Rodney pointed to his lower right side, his words rapid fire. "No one really knows why we have them; they don't seem to have any purpose. Sometimes they become infected and require removal."

"Sheppard was favoring his right side when we were sparring the other day," Ronon scowled. "He didn't say anything. I figured he'd just pulled a muscle."

"But Colonel Sheppard will be okay?" Teyla asked.

"Carson seems to think so," Elizabeth smiled.

"Why did you not tell us sooner?" Teyla asked. "We would have waited with you while John was in surgery."

Elizabeth hesitated. "John asked Carson not to. He didn't want you to be woken in the middle of the night when there was nothing you could do."

"You should have told us anyway," Ronon glared. He leaned against the wall, arms drawn across his chest.

"I'm telling you now." Elizabeth rubbed tiredly at the bridge of her nose.

Teyla gripped Elizabeth's arm in a show of support. "You must be exhausted."

Elizabeth smiled gratefully at Teyla. Ronon turned, striding quickly away.

"Ronon!" Elizabeth called after him. "Where are you…?"

Rodney looked from Elizabeth to Ronon's quickly retreating back. He took one last glance at Elizabeth and then followed after his teammate.

"You should get some rest Elizabeth," Teyla suggested, turning to follow her team to the infirmary.

Elizabeth sighed. She could no more stop John's team from haunting the infirmary halls than Carson could stop her from pacing outside the operating room during John's surgery.

"What the hell." she muttered, following after them. Carson couldn't keep them all out.

*******

"How is he Doc?" Ronon corralled Carson outside his office. He was soon joined by Rodney, Teyla and Elizabeth.

"Sleeping," Carson held up both hands. "And I don't want him woken up. He needs to rest."

"But he's going to be okay?" Rodney stared nervously at his best friend. "Because I have yet to hear you say John's going to be fine."

"He's still running a low grade fever," Carson admitted. "We've got him on a course of antibiotics and hopefully it will resolve itself."

"Is that normal after this type of operation?" Teyla asked.

"No." Carson sighed wearily. "It's a complication, but hopefully one we can take care of quickly."

"Where is he?" Ronon asked. He knew he could simply search the infirmary to find Sheppard, but he figured it would be easier to just ask.

"Perhaps we could all look in on him, just to ease our minds as to his condition?" Teyla suggested. "Then possibly one of us could stay and sit with him."

"All right," Carson agreed. "But I must stress that he needs to rest. If I feel he's keeping himself awake to talk to you, I'm going to need you to leave."

"Deal." Elizabeth interceded, smiling at Teyla. She was always impressed by Teyla's negotiating skills. There was little wonder why she'd emerged as her people's leader.

"This way." Carson led them deeper into the infirmary, finally stopping at a bed in the far corner.

Teyla stepped up to the bed and smiled at the man who had become one of her closest friends. She couldn't help thinking that he did indeed look quite ill. His face was slightly flushed. He lay flat on his back and still wore a surgical gown. A nasal cannula assisted his breathing. An I.V. line was placed in the back of one of his hands; a blood pressure cuff was attached to one of his biceps and wires leading to the heart monitor beeping methodically in the background snaked out of the top of his gown. A pulse ox monitor was clipped to one of his fingers. She touched his forearm and gently squeezed. "Good morning Colonel Sheppard. How are you feeling?"

"Hey." Ronon nodded at John, stepping to the other side of the bed.

"Hi guys." John blinked at them blearily, smiling weakly. "Nice of you to come around."

"We would have been here sooner." Ronon said pointedly, staring steadily at his friend.

"Does he look as bad as I think he does?" Rodney loudly whispered to Carson, his eyes darting nervously to John.

"Rodney!" Carson and Elizabeth chided him simultaneously.

Elizabeth stepped up to the foot of the bed. She covered her own fears about John's health with a cheery smile.

"Like I said, the Colonel is running a slight fever." Carson stepped closer to the bed and glanced at John's vitals on the monitors. He frowned. He stepped away from the bed and pulled a thermometer from a drawer.

"You didn't answer Teyla's question," Ronon said to John, studying his friend with a measured glance. "How are you feeling?"

"You know, not so good," John shifted uncomfortably. He winced slightly.

Ronon nodded. "Rodney's right. You look like crap."

"Thanks big guy." John chuckled, saying dryly, "Someone needs to teach you visiting patient etiquette. You're never supposed to point out how much like crap someone looks."

"Sorry Colonel," Carson apologized as he inserted the thermometer into John's ear. Noting how distinctly uncomfortable John looked, he glanced up at the group surrounding the bed. "Okay, all but one of ye. Out."

Ronon sat down in a chair next to John's bed.

Teyla squeezed John's arm and smiled encouragingly. "Feel better, Colonel."

"Yes, feel better," Elizabeth smiled. "I'll be back to check on you later."

Rodney, his eyes wide with discomfort, gave John a slight wave and quickly backed out of the infirmary.

John lifted his hand, wriggling his fingers in goodbye at his departing friends.

Ronon crossed his arms over his chest and caught John's gaze. "You're hurting." He observed. He leaned forward. "Is it normal after-surgery hurting or does it feel different?"

Carson took the thermometer out of John's ear, noting with some alarm that it had risen in the past hour from 99 to 100.

"Feels different." John winced again, one of his hands drifting to his side.

Ronon glanced up at Carson, a questioning look in his eyes.

Carson grabbed a pair of gloves, efficiently snapping them on as Ronon stepped out of his way. Carson moved to the side of the bed and pulled John's blanket down to around his hips. "This might hurt a wee bit Colonel," he murmured a warning as he lifted John's gown out of the way and pulled back the dressing.

John let out a muffled groan as Carson probed the incision site with his fingers. "Sorry Colonel," Carson said, giving his patient's shoulder a quick squeeze before reapplying the dressing and lowering John's gown. "I'm going to need to draw some blood."

"What is it Doc?" Ronon asked.

Carson pulled a rolling tray close to the bed and sat down on a stool. John looked away as Carson positioned the tourniquet around John's upper arm and tapped the skin to raise a vein. Smoothly inserting the needle, he drew several vials of blood. Carefully placing the vials to the side, Carson removed the needle, replacing it with a cotton swab, taping it in place. "All done Colonel."

Carson glanced from Ronon to his patient. "Would you mind giving us a moment, Ronon?"

"He can stay," John shook his head. "What's going on Doc? I thought I was supposed to be feeling better by now."

"That you were son," Carson sighed. "I'm afraid you've developed some complications. You were in a rather advanced stage of appendicitis by the time we got you in to surgery. Sometimes that can lead to post-operative infections."

"Great." John closed his eyes. "So what do we do now?"

"Well, we'll analyze your blood so we can give you the right antibiotics. Hopefully we can catch this thing before it really takes hold." Carson stood up, picking up the vials of blood from the tray.

"And if that doesn't work?" John looked up at his doctor.

"We'll cross that bridge if we come to it," Carson said softly. "Hang in there, Colonel. Get some rest, okay?"

Ronon leaned back in his chair as John nodded wearily.

"Don't fight it," Ronon said, noting John's attempts to keep his eyes open.

John closed his eyes. Ronon sat quietly as his friend finally drifted off into an uneasy sleep. He watched as Carson brought over a bag of I.V. antibiotics and attached it to John's drip.

"I'll make you a deal," Ronon lifted his eyes to meet Carson's. "Next time he tells you not to wake me up, you wake me up anyway. And the next time I see him ignoring a medical issue, I'll drop kick his ass and bring him here. Kicking and screaming if I have to."

"That's a deal," Carson smiled. "I'll check back in a little while."

Ronon nodded, stretching his legs out to settle himself more comfortably in the chair. John was the only family he had and it would take a hurricane to uproot him from John's side.

******

Rodney didn't know how he'd ended up on the East pier. He'd started walking away from the infirmary as fast as he could, and the next thing he knew he was staring out at the water. The peaceful view was doing little to calm the fear bubbling in the pit of his stomach. John had been in some tight situations before; he'd nearly died several times over. Hell, he'd turned into a bug for god's sake. He didn't know why it felt different this time, but it did.

"Rodney!"

He heard Elizabeth call his name. He ducked his head, continuing to stare at the water. He'd been a real jackass in the infirmary, pointing out so loudly just how bad John looked. He deserved whatever tongue lashing she was coming to deliver.

But it didn't come. Instead, she gently touched his shoulder and joined him in staring out at the water.

"He's going to be okay, Rodney," she said.

"Do you know how many people have died from appendicitis, Elizabeth?" Rodney clenched his hands into fists.

"John has the best of care," Elizabeth reminded him gently. "The mortality rates for appendicitis in this day and age are low, around three percent. I checked."

"Do you know _why_ people die from appendicitis?" Rodney asked bitterly. "Because untreated, appendicitis is fatal, Elizabeth. Fatal. And that stubborn idiot let his symptoms go for weeks probably and now look at him."

"He's not dying, Rodney," Elizabeth said firmly.

"Oh come on," Rodney said incredulously. "It's Colonel Sheppard we're talking about here. If the worst can happen, it does."

Elizabeth sighed. She couldn't argue with the propensity John had for getting into trouble. She glanced at Rodney. He was staring morosely off into the distance, his body tight with fear and tension. Rodney was a difficult man, and much of the time she wanted nothing more than to throttle him. But underneath all that arrogance and bluster was a man who cared deeply and who tried very hard not to show it.

She took a deep breath. "Rodney, I'm going to tell you something, and if you ever tell anyone I told you this I will demote you to janitor and make you Carson's whipping boy."

Rodney opened his mouth to retort, saw the look in Elizabeth's eyes and promptly closed it again.

She stared across the water. "Anytime one of your missions keeps your team off world overnight, I can't sleep. Teyla, Ronon, you…" Elizabeth cast a smile at Rodney. Her smile turned wistful. "And John. You're like family. I can't rest until you come back through that gate and I know you're all okay. I'm the one who sent you out there, and I'm the one responsible if…" Her voice trailed off. She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. She turned to Rodney. "Do you really not know why John didn't seek medical treatment right away?"

Rodney stared at Elizabeth in confusion. He shrugged his shoulders.

"What was your last mission?" Elizabeth asked.

"We thought we had a line on a ZedPM." Rodney answered.

"Rather important mission, wasn't it?" Elizabeth cocked her head at Rodney. "I would have sent you out there whether Colonel Sheppard was leading your team or not."

"So?" Rodney stared at Elizabeth uncomprehendingly.

Elizabeth had to smile. About some things Rodney was so smart. And others he was so dumb. "How do you think John would have felt if he was laid up in the infirmary and something happened to you out there? He is your team leader. He's the one who keeps you out of trouble and protects you when trouble finds you anyway. I know John, Rodney," Elizabeth said gravely. "He would never forgive himself if anything happened to you and he wasn't there. So he pushes himself. Thinking if he can just make it through the mission, through the next few days… he ignores the pain in his own body, works through it and puts it out of his mind so he can be there for you and for your team."

"How can he not see that we feel the same way about him?" Rodney blurted out angrily, glaring out at the water. "Does he not care what it would do to us if he died?"

Elizabeth sighed as she gently squeezed Rodney's shoulder. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that," she said quietly.

Rodney grunted, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Come on," Elizabeth turned away from the water. "Let's go back."

She had an inexplicable urge to get back to the infirmary, as if somehow being nearby would prevent John's condition from continuing to worsen.

********

Teyla had always been somewhat awed by Ronon's extraordinary ability to retreat into absolute stillness. She supposed it was something his grandfather had taught him when he'd shown a young Ronon how to hunt. And as Ronon now sat by their team leader's bedside, he looked to Teyla like a sentry on guard duty. He was sitting in total silence, and to the untrained eye it might look like he was relaxed, dozing even. But he was completely alert and as watchful to changes in John's condition as he was to the behavior of the nurses tending to their patient. And Ronon's watchful gaze told Teyla all she needed to know about John's condition. It was serious, and the medical staff was worried.

Ronon looked up, meeting Teyla's gaze as she stepped up to the bed. John was sleeping. The slight sheen on his face told her he was still running a high fever. Ronon lithely got up from the chair, conceding the watch to Teyla. He cast a glance at John, nodded at Teyla, and walked out of the cubicle.

Teyla sat down. Taking a deep breath, she began to meditate in an effort to calm the worry gnawing at her stomach. She forced herself to relax, to calmly breathe in and out. She didn't want her fear to be visible to John. It was her turn to carry the weight and be strong, as John had been for her time and time again.

John stirred restlessly, muttering something under his breath. His eyelids fluttered, but he didn't awaken. He sighed and then fell back into silence. Teyla leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. Her life before the culling of her village, her life before John and Atlantis, it seemed so far away, like a distant memory. She'd always felt like she'd had a purpose, from the time she was a little girl it was expected she would one day lead her people. And she had led her people and led them well. But John had shown her an even higher calling, a way for her to make an impact on a far greater scale. To help save not just her people from the Wraith, but her galaxy. He'd changed her life in a way she'd only just begun to process.

She glanced up as a nurse approached John's bed with a basin and a washcloth.

"Cool water." The nurse explained in a quiet whisper, setting the basin down on a rolling tray. "It'll help with the fever, make him more comfortable."

"Please." Teyla stood up, holding out her hand for the cloth. "Would you allow me to do it?"

The nurse nodded her assent, handing the cloth to Teyla. She checked a few of the monitors before she quietly slipped from the room.

Teyla dipped the cloth in the water, carefully wringing it out. Stepping to the bed, she applied it to John's forehead, pressing lightly. He sighed and stirred again, but he must have found the cool of the cloth soothing because the lines on his face smoothed out and his body relaxed. She removed the cloth, dipping it back in the basin and again wringing it out. She gently rubbed the damp cloth down his arms, careful to avoid I.V. lines and monitor wires. She pressed the cool cloth to his flushed cheeks. Submersed it and wrung it out again and returned it to his forehead. This time she was met with a pair of hazel eyes blinking up at her.

"Hi, Teyla." His voice sounded thin and reedy.

"Colonel." She smiled. "How are you feeling?"

He licked at his lips and said, "Thirsty."

She glanced around John's bed for a cup of water but didn't see one. Dipping the cloth back into the basin, she twisted the excess water from it and then brushed it across John's dry lips, squeezing several drops of water into John's mouth.

"Better?" She asked, readying the cloth again.

"Better," John sighed.

He closed his eyes when Teyla returned the cool cloth to his forehead. John wasn't the type of man who liked anyone fussing over him. But John didn't have the strength to protest Teyla's tender ministrations, yet another indication of just how sick he was. Within minutes John had fallen back into an uneasy sleep.

Teyla continued to press the cool cloth to his forehead, freshening it every few minutes, until Elizabeth came in to relieve her. She handed the cloth to Elizabeth and left the infirmary in search of Ronon. Meditation wasn't working to ease her anxiety; perhaps a sparring match with Ronon would.

*******

When Ronon returned to the infirmary at three in the morning and relieved Rodney, all was quiet.

And then, without warning, it changed. John became restless. He muttered words Ronon couldn't understand. Sweat slicked his body, dampening his hair and soaking his gown. John's eyes opened, but they were glazed over. He began to writhe in pain. Ronon stood at the side of the bed, his hand clamped on John's shoulder. He tapped his ear piece, calling for Carson.

And then Carson and a team of nurses were rushing to John's side. John let out audible groans, breathlessly panting as they poked and prodded at his tender side.

"What's going on Doc?" Ronon jumped out of the way as the medical team grabbed John's bed and swung it towards the operating room.

"The antibiotics aren't working fast enough. I've got to go back in and clean out that infection." Carson's voice was clipped as he followed his team through the OR doors. "Please update the others."

Ronon stared at the space where John's bed had been and thought he'd had enough of losing the people he loved most in the world.

Tbc…


	4. Chapter 4

As always, thank you so much for reading. Special thanks to everyone who left reviews. I love hearing what you thought!

Sorry this installment took me so long to finish. The past week has been a little busy!

Back to Carson's POV. Hope you enjoy it!

_Carson_

Carson sat wearily on the rolling chair next to Colonel Sheppard's bed. He glanced up at the monitors. John's temperature was stubbornly hanging at 102 degrees. He leaned back, resting his head against the back of the chair. He reminded himself to be patient. The good news was John's fever wasn't getting any worse. These things sometimes took time.

"He's holding his own," Joanne said encouragingly, deftly attaching a fresh saline bag to John's I.V. "You should get some rest, Dr. Beckett, if you don't mind my saying so."

"Aye, Luv," Carson smiled fondly at the petite red headed nurse. He knew she was right. He hadn't caught more than a cat nap since the Colonel had taken sick. "I will...eventually."

"Uh huh," Joanne smiled knowingly, shaking her head. She took John's chart, making several notations in it before setting it back on the end of John's bed. "Dr. Weir asked if she and the others could visit with Colonel Sheppard for a minute. They're waiting outside."

Carson stood up. He stretched, and then set both hands on the raised rail of John's bed. They'd brought John out of surgery thirty minutes ago and he was surprised it had taken this long for John's team to get antsy to visit with him.

"Bring them back." Carson nodded at Joanne. "But remind them it's just for a minute. When the Colonel's out of recovery, one of them can come back at a time, like before."

"You got it, Doc." Joanne pertly spun around, heading towards the main area of the infirmary.

Carson sighed. He glanced again at the monitors. 102 degrees. "A watched pot never boils," he muttered to himself. He hated this part of the job: waiting to see if everything he'd done would be enough to make the difference between life and death.

He heard them before he saw them: The squeak of four pairs of shoes on the floor, the rustling of clothes, several sharp intakes of breath. But they weren't talking. They were all nervously silent. He glanced up. Elizabeth was first with Teyla and Ronon right behind her. Rodney was trailing at the rear.

"Carson." Elizabeth's voice was fearful as she approached John's bed. "He's not breathing on his own?"

He held up both hands. "Don't panic, Elizabeth. It didn't take us as long to clean out the gunk as we'd feared, so we put him under with the idea we'd be in there far longer than we were. We need to let some of the drugs work their way out of his system; we can't take him off the ventilator until that happens."

"How is he, Doc?" Ronon asked, moving around Elizabeth and taking position at the head of the bed. He briefly rested his hand on John's shoulder, his eyes intent on John's face.

"We cleaned out the infection and inserted a drain into his abdomen, basically rubber tubes, to promote the flow of the infection from inside the abdomen to outside the body." Carson explained. "That plus the antibiotics should kick the infection once and for all."

"So Colonel Sheppard will be fine?" Teyla asked hopefully.

"It's looking good," Carson said cautiously. "Colonel Sheppard's temperature is down to 102 degrees. We have a ways to go yet, but I think we may be turning a corner."

"This is why medicine is a voodoo science," Rodney scowled. "You never know anything with certainty. It's always _we're cautiously optimistic_ and _it's all up to John now_. What good are you if you can't even tell us if he's going to get better? You doctors…you inflict all this pain… needles and surgeries and drugs that, most of the time, do more harm than good and you can't even promise it's worth it."

Carson had to smile. Rodney was seconds away from literally wringing his hands with worry. Rodney hated uncertainty on a good day, and when one of his best friends' lives hung in the balance, he needed something, anything to hang on to. And when that certainty wasn't there to give, it made Rodney even more peck-ish than usual. Carson understood and knew he couldn't take anything Rodney said at a time like this personally.

"I _am_ cautiously optimistic, Rodney, that Colonel Sheppard will pull through this. The human body is not a machine and medicine can't offer any guarantees," Carson told his friend firmly. "And now, the lot of you: out. I'll let you know when you can come back to visit again."

Elizabeth gently touched John's leg. "Hang in there, Colonel." She glanced at Carson. "Thank you. Take good care of him."

"Aye, Luv. Of course." Carson smiled at Elizabeth.

Teyla nodded gravely at Carson and followed Elizabeth out of the recovery area.

Ronon gave John's shoulder one more squeeze. "Stay strong Sheppard."

And then Carson was left alone with Rodney.

"Rodney?" Carson arched an eyebrow at the uncomfortable physicist.

"You just have to make sure he gets better." Rodney muttered softly.

"I'm doing everything I can." Carson reminded him gently.

"I know." Rodney finally approached John's bed; he stared nervously at his unconscious friend. "It's just…what if it's not enough?"

"Let's hope that it is." Carson put his hand on Rodney's shoulder.

"I'm not very good at…hoping." Rodney glanced at Carson. "I'm not good at feeling this useless."

"I know, Rodney." Carson sighed. "I'm not either."

"I really hate this, Carson." Rodney shoved his hands into his pockets, turning on his heel and walking away.

"I know." Carson sat heavily on the rolling chair. He'd gotten into medicine to help people. The hardest lesson he'd had to learn was that it wasn't always possible. He let his head fall against the back of the chair. His eyes felt like sandpaper and he rubbed tiredly at them. He let his eyes close, figuring he'd rest them just for a minute.

The next thing he knew Joanne was gently shaking his shoulder.

"I'm sorry to wake you, Doctor." Joanne said apologetically. "But Colonel Sheppard is starting to have spontaneous breaths. I thought you might want to extubate."

Carson stretched stiffly as he stood up. "How long have I been asleep?" he asked guiltily.

"Not long," Joanne smiled sympathetically.

Carson pulled his stethoscope from his pocket, inserting the earpieces into his ears. He slipped the bell of the stethoscope under John's gown, listened for a moment, and then slid it to the other side of John's chest. He nodded at Joanne, pulling the device from his ears and looping it around his neck. Joanne rolled an instrument tray to Carson's side and he proceeded to remove John's breathing tube.

Joanne placed an oxygen mask over John's nose and mouth as Carson again listened to John's lungs with the stethoscope. Satisfied with what he heard, Carson hooked the stethoscope around his neck.

"Okay. Let's see if we can wake him up." Carson glanced over at Joanne.

Joanne nodded, taking one of John's hands firmly in hers. Carson called out the Colonel's name, urging him to squeeze Joanne's hand. When John remained unresponsive, Carson briskly rubbed John's breastbone.

That got a response as John moaned softly under the mask. His eyelids fluttered and he moved his head across the pillow towards the sound of Carson's voice.

"Don't." John muttered weakly. He attempted to knock the oxygen mask from his face, but Carson intercepted John's hand and pulled it back down to his side.

"You've got to wake up, Colonel," Carson said firmly. "Say hello to me and Joanne and then you can go back to sleep."

"Don't…" John's hazel eyes peeked out of half closed lids. "Don't…Hollin..." He gripped Carson's hand in agitation.

"Colonel Sheppard." Carson said soothingly, gently squeezing John's hand. "Take it easy, Colonel. You're all right."

"Who's Holly?" Joanne asked in puzzlement.

"Not Holly," Carson corrected her quietly, never taking his eyes from his patient. "Shhh," he soothed. "It's all right. You're on Atlantis, Colonel. You're safe. Everyone's safe."

"Doctor," Joanne said warningly. "He's going to be sick." Quickly she pulled the oxygen mask from John's face.

"Let's roll him." Carson gripped John's shoulders, guiding him onto his side. "Careful of that drain," he warned. He grabbed an emesis basin, shoving it under John's chin as John began to retch, his body shuddering with dry heaves.

"Ativan?" Joanne asked, already reaching for a syringe and the medication bottle.

"Five mgs." Carson nodded. He took the syringe from Joanne and efficiently injected the medication into John's I.V. port.

"Easy, Colonel. You'll feel better in a jiff." Joanne gently wiped John's mouth with a damp cloth.

Carson carefully eased John onto his back. He looked up at Joanne. "Let's switch to a nasal cannula."

Joanne nodded, swiftly settling the tubing under John's nose and tucking it behind his ears and under his chin.

The effect of the medication was nearly immediate. John's ragged breathing evened out. His hazel eyes glazed over. But his fingers twitched agitatedly at his blanket. He looked desperately at Carson. "We can't leave him there," he pleaded. "Holland went down. We have to go back."

Carson slid his fingers around his friend's wrist, as much to comfort as to check his patient's pulse. "Colonel Sheppard, you're on Atlantis. We're safe."

"Atlantis?" John's eyes roved around his surroundings in confusion. "We're on Atlantis." He closed his eyes slowly and then opened them again, as if he was trying to ground himself. "Carson?"

"That's right, lad." Carson smiled, lightly squeezing John's wrist.

John's eyes wandered to the medical paraphernalia around his bed. "Am I dying?" John asked, his eyes finally settling on Carson's face.

"Absolutely not, son," Carson responded firmly. He took a firm grip on John's wrist, placed his other hand on John's shoulder and leaned over the bed, making direct eye contact with him. "You understand me? You're going to be just fine."

John nodded at Carson, the look on his face one of absolute trust. His eyelids began to droop, and Carson knew John was forcing himself to stay awake.

"You need to rest, Colonel." Carson encouraged him. "Don't fight it."

John barely managed a nod before his eyes closed and he dropped into a heavy sleep.

Carson sat down on the chair by the bed and let his head drop to his hands. His body was approaching exhaustion. His muscles ached, and his head felt like it was filled with cotton balls. He felt a pair of feminine hands on his shoulders.

"Dr. Beckett, you've done everything you can." Teyla crouched next to the chair. "You must rest. Let us care for John now. We'll call you if John needs you."

Carson glanced towards his office and the couch he kept there for quick cat naps.

"Not there." Teyla shook her head. "Your quarters. You've taken excellent care of Colonel Sheppard, Carson. He'd want you to take care of yourself." Teyla glanced at her sleeping friend and then looked back at Carson. "He'd demand it, in fact."

"Aye, Luv." Carson was unable to stifle a yawn. Conceding, he stood up, his limbs nearly trembling from the effort. He looked at the monitors. John was stable, temp still holding at 102. "Call me if there's any change."

"We will, Carson." Teyla sat down in the chair Carson had just vacated. "The Colonel won't be alone." She smiled at Carson reassuringly.

After giving Joanne instructions for John's care, Carson headed towards his quarters. He never slept well when one of his friends was in trouble and he knew he wouldn't fully rest until John was completely out of the woods. But he had to make sure that if John's condition took another downturn, he wasn't too exhausted to care for him. And that was enough incentive for Carson to force himself to attempt to sleep. John trusted him, and Carson had no intention of letting his friend down.

Carson entered his quarters, kicked his shoes off and dropped heavily onto his bed. Exhaustion won out and within mere moments, he'd fallen into a restless sleep, plagued by visions of John crying out for help in the middle of a vast desert.

He was woken by Joanne's voice on his radio.

"_Dr. Beckett."_

Carson blearily shot straight up in bed; disoriented, he looked around the room in confusion, unsure for a moment where he was.

"_Dr. Beckett. It's Joanne. You said to call you with any change in Colonel Sheppard's condition."_

"Joanne." Carson grabbed his radio, his stomach clenching. "I'm here. Did the Colonel's fever spike again?"

"_Just the opposite, Dr. Beckett,"_ Joanne said happily. "_Colonel Sheppard's fever broke. He's 98.6 and resting comfortably. His vitals are strong. He's doing well, Doctor."_

"Thank God." Carson muttered, falling back against his pillows. "I'll be right there."

"_The Colonel's asleep. You should be too. We'll let you know when he wakes up."_

Carson glanced at his watch. He'd gotten six hours of sleep and he felt like he could use twelve more. "Okay," he conceded. "I'll be back in about five more hours or if Colonel Sheppard wakes up."

"_Ten four, Doctor. Don't call us. We'll call you."_

Joanne clicked off the radio and Carson rolled over on his side. The tension from days of constant worry eased from his body and he finally relaxed, falling into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Tbc…


	5. Chapter 5

Wow, sorry this one took so long. Life got a little carried away with its own plans this past couple weeks.

Thanks for continuing to read. I had no idea this little one shot would expand the way it has. Hope you're all still enjoying it I'm sure having fun writing it.

Thanks as always to those who leave reviews. Writers really do hang on every word, and it's very nice of you to let us know when you like something.

And last but not least, a huge thank you to my beta RinkRat for taking the time to fix my mistakes!

_John_

John burrowed under the covers, wincing at the fleeting bite of pain in his side. Fuzzily he wondered if he'd pulled a muscle in his last sparring session with Ronon. He turned his face into the soft pillow. He had no idea what time it was, but he didn't care; he wasn't ready to get up.

"For God's sake Carson, how much sleep does he need?" Rodney's disgruntled voice pierced John's half slumber. "It's been twelve hours already, and you really should get more comfortable chairs. I feel like my butt's going to fall off."

John furrowed his brow in confusion. What the hell was Rodney doing in his quarters while he was sleeping?

"He needs as much sleep as he needs, Rodney." Carson's patient response was undercut by a slight tinge of irritation.

For that matter, John thought muzzily, what was Carson doing in his quarters? His brain felt like it was encased in fog. None of the words Rodney and Carson were speaking made any sense. He had to be dreaming, one of those weird intensely vivid dreams that occupied the space between sleeping and waking. So all he had to do was wake himself up.

But lethargy gripped him like steel bands wrapped around his body. John frowned, determined to make his limbs respond to his mind's commands. His attempt to roll over caused a sharp pain to rocket across his side. Something pinched painfully at the top of his hand. A soft moan escaped his lips and he wished he could disappear back into the oblivion from which he'd come.

"Carson," Rodney said intently.

John felt fingers slide around his wrist, and Carson's voice soothed, "Take it easy, Colonel. Try not to move."

Definitely not a dream. John turned his head towards the sound of Carson's voice and concentrated on forcing his eyelids to open. He squinted against the bright light and tried to focus on Carson's concerned face. Blearily, he blinked in confusion.

"There you are." Carson smiled down at him. "Good to see you awake."

"What happened?" John croaked. He winced. His throat hurt, and his voice sounded creaky, like from lack of use. He was obviously in the infirmary but for the life of him he couldn't remember why.

"Your idiocy, that's what happened." Rodney glowered at him. "You almost died, you know that? Again."

"Rodney." Carson glared over the bed. "Why don't you leave us alone so I can examine the Colonel."

Memory flooded John's mind: The intense pain in his abdomen that had woken him in the middle of the night, Carson telling him it was his appendix, being rushed into surgery. But everything after that was hazy. He glanced over at Rodney; he was bristling with anger John knew was borne of intense worry. John recognized it, having felt it several times himself when Rodney did something particularly stupid.

"S'okay, Doc." John murmured. He tried to catch Rodney's eye. "I didn't mean to worry you Rodney."

"You never do," Rodney sighed, his anger deflating like air from a balloon. "I'll go tell the others you're awake."

John glanced at Carson as Rodney walked away. "I have a vague recollection of you telling me you were able to remove my appendix before it burst. I thought that was supposed to be a good thing."

"Aye." Carson confirmed. "Unfortunately, there were complications. You picked up a post-operative infection. We had to go back in and insert a drain in your abdomen."

"That sounds…unpleasant." John cast a glance down towards his side.

"Don't worry," Carson grinned. "I removed it about an hour ago."

John sighed as he watched Carson pull his penlight from his pocket. He tolerated medical examinations as a part of the job on Atlantis. It didn't mean he had to like it. Grudgingly he followed Carson's directions and followed the light from the penlight. He blinked rapidly as Carson tucked the device back into his pocket, exchanging it for a stethoscope.

John glanced around his bed as Carson snared his arm to take his blood pressure. He saw that one arm sported two I.V.'s, one in the top of his hand, the other in the crook of his elbow. He was hooked up to a heart monitor and a pulse ox was attached to one of his fingers. He felt the blood pressure cuff tighten uncomfortably around his bicep. Abruptly it released. Carson let go of his arm, ripping the Velcro to remove the cuff from John's arm.

John looked up at the heart monitor, the beating of his heart exposed for the world to see as the wavy lines marched rhythmically across the screen; the steady beeping was a constant hum in the background. Carson pulled the front of his gown around his shoulders. John flinched as the cold bell of the stethoscope touched his skin.

"Nice deep breath for me, please," Carson instructed.

Obediently, John breathed slowly in and out, repeating the action as Carson moved the stethoscope to different locations on his chest and back.

"Sounds good," Carson murmured, pulling John's gown back over his shoulders. "How's your pain?"

"Really only hurts when I move," John answered.

"You're due for pain meds in about an hour, but if it gets too bad let me know," Carson gently patted John's shoulder. "You feel up for some visitors?"

"Sure," John murmured sleepily.

Carson tapped his radio. "Dr. Weir. You and the others can visit with Colonel Sheppard now."

Within minutes Elizabeth, Ronon, Teyla and Rodney trooped over to John's bed.

"Hi guys." John smiled at them, noting the looks of relief on their faces.

"Not too long," Carson cautioned. "He still needs his rest."

"As if he hasn't slept enough already." Rodney griped. "He's been doing nothing but sleep for days."

"How are you feeling, John?" Elizabeth asked, ignoring Rodney's outburst and beaming a smile at John.

"I'm on the mend," John answered, sending a questioning look towards Carson. "Right Doc?"

"That he is," Carson confirmed, scanning John's chart. He scribbled several notations and then hooked it on the end of John's bed.

Ronon gently punched John's shoulder. "About time."

"We were worried, Colonel Sheppard." Teyla stepped forward, smiling fondly at her team leader. "It is good to see you awake."

"Thanks." John yawned. "So, did I miss anything?"

"Well, if you call watching you delirious with fever missing anything then…" Rodney trailed off as four pairs of eyes glared furiously at him. "…then no," he finished lamely.

"Sorry to put you guys through that." John said softly. He felt a lump form in his throat and he swallowed thickly. Emotion overwhelmed him, and he thought he heard the beat of the heart monitor quicken. The past few days came back to him in flashes: Elizabeth holding his hand pleading with him to get better, Rodney babbling with nervousness, the silent strength of Ronon and Teyla. He looked into the faces of his friends and knew he could ask for none better.

"All right then," Carson gently interceded. "Colonel Sheppard needs to rest."

Ronon hooked a leg around the rolling chair and pulled it towards the bed. He sat down. "My turn."

Carson smiled, ushering Elizabeth and the rest of John's team out of the infirmary.

"You don't have to stay, big guy," John glanced at his friend. "I'm fine."

"Someone has to make sure you don't break out of here." Ronon smiled dangerously, folding his arms over his chest.

"I would never…" John protested mildly. At Ronon's raised eyebrow, he grinned. "Okay, I would. You're really not going to help?"

"You're not going anywhere for a while, Colonel." Carson's voice was stern.

John flushed guiltily as Carson approached his bed, a needle in hand.

"Your pain meds," Carson explained as he injected the contents of the syringe into John's I.V. "This is probably going to make you quite sleepy."

John nodded. Warmth seeped into his veins, weighting down his body. His eyelids drooped, closing against his will. He struggled to keep his eyes open, fighting the sensation of being dragged under. He felt Ronon's hand on his shoulder, steadying him. He felt his body relax, and he let go, falling into a deep sleep.

When John woke up again, the first thing he noticed was the silence. At some point while he was sleeping, Carson had unhooked the heart monitor. The pulse ox monitor was also gone, and only the I.V. in his hand remained. He glanced to the side of the bed. Ronon was gone. Carson sat in the chair at his bedside, working on a stack of charts.

"Hi Doc." John licked his dry lips.

"Colonel." Carson set aside his charting. "How are you feeling?"

"Thirsty." John cleared his throat. "Could I have some water?"

Carson nodded, filling a cup from a pitcher of water on John's bedside table.

Carson slipped one hand under John's neck to help support him as he raised the cup to John's lips. John greedily sucked at the straw.

"Easy," Carson warned. "Not too much. We don't want it coming back up."

He set the cup down and John gratefully sank back against his pillows.

"How long have I been asleep?" John asked, glancing around the infirmary. He figured it had to be early evening. There wasn't much activity, but the lights hadn't been dimmed, and it didn't have the feel of late night or early morning.

"About seven hours." Carson glanced at his watch. "It's a little before six. I'll have them bring you up some dinner."

John's stomach growled, and he realized he was actually hungry. "Steak?" he asked hopefully.

"Forget it," Carson rolled his eyes at his overeager patient. "Try broth and a little Jell-o."

"Bummer," John scowled with disappointment.

"One step at a time," Carson patted John's arm. "And speaking of steps, after dinner we're going to take a little walk around the infirmary. It's time to get you up and moving around."

"I think it's time to send me back to my quarters," John suggested.

"Let's start with dinner." Carson tapped his earpiece. "Joanne, luv. Could you bring up Colonel Sheppard's dinner tray?"

"Broth is not real food," John grumped, his stomach rudely growling again.

But when Joanne brought his tray in, he barely managed to finish off the broth. After two spoonfuls of Jell-o, he pushed the tray away. He took several deep breaths, hoping to quell the rebellion taking place in his stomach. Within seconds, Carson was at his side.

"I'm okay." John gritted out. He forced himself to breathe deeply. "You're right. Steak would have been a little much."

"I can give you something to ease the nausea." Carson's blue eyes filled with concern.

"I just need a second." John shook his head.

Carson nodded, re-taking his seat next to the bed.

John closed his eyes, breathing easier as the nausea began to recede. He opened his eyes and looked at Carson.

"Better?" Carson asked, his eyes on a chart in which he was scribbling notations.

John nodded. "Yeah."

Carson closed the chart and set it aside. "Okay then. Let's get you up."

John wobbled on his feet, leaning heavily against Carson. With his other hand he gripped the I.V. stand. He would have said he was weak as a kitten, but he was pretty sure even a kitten was stronger than him right now. His side burned, and his arms and legs trembled with exertion. His breath was beginning to come in ragged pants.

"Almost there," Carson encouraged him cheerily. "Just a few more steps and we'll have you back in bed."

Painfully they shuffled across the infirmary floor until they finally reached John's bed. He collapsed on the bed in exhaustion, allowing Carson to help guide his feet back under the covers and fluff the pillows under his head.

"What's wrong with me?" John asked, looking fearfully at his doctor.

Carson took John's wrist in his hand, taking his pulse as he responded. "You were very sick for a while there, Colonel. It's just going to take you some time to get your strength back. But you will. Every day you'll get a little stronger. You'll see. Tomorrow, we'll do a full lap around the infirmary. Before you know it, you'll be right back to your old self. The body has a tremendous ability to bounce back."

John grunted a response, pulling the blankets up to his shoulders. He didn't want to take time to feel better. A week ago he could hold his own in a sparring match with Ronon. John scowled. Okay, maybe not hold his own, but he could at least not get his ass handed to him. Now he could barely even stand. Rodney could probably beat him in a fight right now.

"The better you feel the more frustrated you're going to get," Carson warned him sympathetically. "Don't push yourself too hard, okay? You'll do more harm than good."

"Where is everyone?" John closed his eyes. He didn't want to talk about his lack of physical condition anymore. He wanted to be distracted, and his team was pretty good at doing that.

"I expect Elizabeth in a wee bit." Carson sat down. "We can get your Nintendo from your quarters if you'd like."

"Maybe Rodney could bring me that study he was working on to improve the power relays in the chair room." John suggested. His body wasn't working, but maybe his brain would. He at least wouldn't feel quite so useless.

"Sure." Carson nodded. "That's a great idea. I'll ask Rodney to bring it over tomorrow."

"Bring what over tomorrow?" Elizabeth smiled as she walked over to John's bed.

"Just something Rodney was working on." John smiled at his boss. "Hi Elizabeth."

"Hi John," Elizabeth briefly touched his hand. "How are you? You look a little tired."

"I am a little tired," John admitted. He studied Elizabeth's face. It was lined with tension. And this time he knew it wasn't about him. "What's wrong Elizabeth?"

"What?" Elizabeth shook her head. "Nothing."

"Don't lie to me." John narrowed his eyes. He could read Elizabeth about as well as Elizabeth could read him, which was pretty well. "I'm still your second in command, even if I am lying in this bed. Tell me what's going on."

He watched Elizabeth and Carson exchange a glance and his stomach began to churn with worry.

"Dammit!" He glared at them both. "Talk to me."

"SGA-5 was late for their scheduled check in earlier today. I sent Ronon, Teyla and a team of Marines to check it out." Elizabeth said quietly.

"And what did they find?" John ground his teeth as he forced himself into a sitting position. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Carson move closer to his bed. He winced as pain lanced through his side. "Elizabeth," he growled. "Where's my team?"

"I don't know," Elizabeth placed a hand on his bed, as if to steady herself. "They missed their check in as well."

John yanked his covers back, hissing in pain as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. Even as his feet hit the floor, his legs had already betrayed him, refusing to hold his weight.

John felt Carson grip him heavily under his shoulders and lift him back up onto the bed.

"I have to go after them." John panted, fighting Carson's efforts to push him back against the pillows.

"You're not going anywhere, Colonel Sheppard." Carson said sternly. "You can't help them in this condition."

"What are you doing to try and find them?" John glared furiously at Elizabeth. He knew he wasn't being fair. He wasn't angry at her. He was angry with himself for being too weak to be there for his teammates when they needed him. But he lashed out at her anyway. He couldn't stop himself.

"We're sending an aerial A/V." Elizabeth regarded him calmly, letting his anger simply wash over her. "I can't send any more teams until we know what's going on."

"We have to get them back." John said, hating the desperation in his voice.

"We'll figure this out." Elizabeth said strongly. "But in the meantime, there's nothing you can do except rest."

"I can't." John didn't have the strength to fight this time as Carson gently eased him back against the pillows and drew the blankets up. "They're in trouble. I can feel it. You have to let me help them."

John shook his head as he watched Carson fill a syringe with medication. He tried to shove the blankets off. He just needed to get up, get up and get away. But Elizabeth grabbed his hands.

"No!" John shook his head. "Don't give me that. I have to be able to think straight."

"You need to rest son," Carson said firmly.

John watched helplessly as Carson injected the medication into his I.V. He felt it flow through his veins.

"No," he muttered, fighting the growing lethargy in his body. "Let me help them."

"You're in no condition to help anyone," Carson said quietly. "We'll find them, John. I promise."

"They need me." John clung to consciousness, the thought of Ronon, Teyla, the Marines he commanded, and SGA-5 acting like beacons in the dark.

John limply reached for Carson's hand. "We have…" He forced his eyes open. He forced his head off the pillow. "We have…"

But the darkness grew stronger and stronger.

"To go back…" he muttered, his fingers twitching. His head fell back. His eyes closed.

And the darkness took him.

Tbc…


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you for continuing to read!! And again, special thanks to those who've left reviews. I'm glad to hear you're still enjoying it!! There is plenty of whump still to come!!

To my beta RinkRat: huge hugs and great thanks for the time you take to edit each chapter. I so appreciate it!

Let me know what you think--I love hearing from you!

Edited to add: I could not get to hold my mini chapter breaks so finally resorted to numbering them....grrrr.....

1.

Elizabeth reviewed Major Lorne's report for the fifth time, and for the fifth time she scrubbed her eyes in frustration. The aerial A/V had painted a clear and concise picture of what was happening on M15 637, and yet it still didn't tell them what they most needed to know: If SGA-5 and the team of Marines that Ronon and Teyla had led in search of them, still survived.

Elizabeth sighed wearily, letting her head fall against the back of her chair. She stared dismally at the ceiling. Three days ago she'd sent SGA-5 on a meet and greet with the leaders of an agrarian society, Aganna, to establish relations for a trading agreement. When they'd failed to return and Atlantis failed to make contact, they sent a MALP through the gate. Other than a few wisps of smoke in the distance, it showed no activity whatsoever. So she'd sent Ronon and Teyla after them. Elizabeth pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache blooming just behind her eyes.

She sat up and read through Lorne's report for the sixth time. It was no different than the five times before. Tarsa, the Agannan's main village, had been overrun and burned to the ground. Not by Wraith, for the warriors who now controlled the Gate were distinctly human. Their weaponry was unsophisticated, but their numbers made them a formidable force. In the razed village itself and in the plains abutting the scrubby mountainside, there was no sign of her teams. The Tarsans had either fled or died in the flames, and she could only hope that her expedition members had found a means of escape, a way to hold out until Atlantis could mount a rescue.

She shoved the data pad aside and got up, beginning to pace her office. With each step, the walls seemed to close in on her.

"Elizabeth."

She glanced up sharply, frowning at the familiar voice. Lt. Colonel John Sheppard slouched against her doorframe. His face was pinched, his right hand pressed into his side, and she didn't know how he'd managed to get to her office from the infirmary, much less continue to hold himself up right. But then, she guessed that was what the doorframe was for.

"What are you doing out of the infirmary Colonel Sheppard?" She asked, worry putting a bite into her words.

"What's the situation on M15 637?" John's hazel eyes bore into her.

"You should be resting John." She walked towards him, thinking to take his elbow and lead him back to the infirmary. But he was having none of it. His eyes flashed with irritation and his mouth set in a hard line.

"I'm not an invalid Elizabeth," he snapped. "Just give me the damn mission report."

She stared back at him and found herself in a battle of wills. Remembering the betrayal in his eyes when she'd held him down while Carson sedated him, she relented. She slowly nodded and took his elbow in her hand, guiding him to a chair. She pushed the data pad towards him and took her own seat while he reviewed it.

After several minutes of silence, John pushed the data pad away. He glanced at Elizabeth and thoughtfully scratched at his chin.

"When is the Daedelus due back?" he asked.

"Colonel Caldwell is aware of the situation here. Even pushing the Daedelus' engines, he's two weeks out." Elizabeth sighed. "For now, we're on our own."

John nodded. He reached once more for the data pad, reviewing it a second time. Elizabeth cleared her throat. The silence in the room was growing oppressive.

"We need better intel." John tapped his finger on the desk. "We have eleven people on the ground and no idea where any of them are. A full frontal assault is futile."

"Major Lorne said the same thing," Elizabeth said thoughtfully. "We've dialed the gate several times attempting to make radio contact. So far, nothing."

"If they're in a dicey situation, they've probably initiated radio silence." John leaned forward, flinching as he did so. He opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it and closed it again. Painfully he stood up. He nodded at Elizabeth. "Thank you for letting me look at the report." Slowly he shuffled towards the door.

"We'll get them back John," she called after his retreating figure.

"You bet your ass we will." He waved at her as he slowly shuffled back to his bed in the infirmary.

Elizabeth pulled the data pad towards her and perused it for the seventh time. Shoving it away she pursed her lips. "We'll get them back," she muttered. But even to her own ears, the words lacked conviction.

2.

John limped slowly into the infirmary. As much as he hated to admit it, his side was killing him and he was lightheaded from his walk to and from Elizabeth's office. He was more than ready to collapse back into bed. He came to a stop when he saw Carson standing in front of said empty bed, his arms folded across his chest, an angry glare in his usually cheery eyes.

"Who told ye you could get out a' bed?" Carson eyed John reprovingly.

"You did," John protested, knowing even as he said it that Carson would find some way to get him back. "You told me I needed to walk. I was only following my doctor's orders."

"You ripped your I.V. out." Carson fixed John with a withering stare. "And I told you to walk around the infirmary, where ya could be supervised." He pointed to John's empty bed. "Back into bed with ye. Hannah will be right over to re-insert that I.V."

John blanched. Not Hammer Hands Hannah. He'd expected Carson to make him pay for breaking out of the infirmary, but that was just too much.

"Please Carson," he pleaded as he climbed back into bed, "Haven't I been through enough?"

"She's a right fine nurse Colonel Sheppard," Carson said sternly, arching an eyebrow at John.

"What would you know?" John grumbled, stiffly reaching down to pull the blankets over his legs. "You're not the one getting stabbed with needles. Don't you have an oath of first do no harm?"

"Fine. I'll do it," Carson rolled his eyes at John. He walked over to a supply cabinet, pulling out the I.V. kit.

"You know," John suggested helpfully. "You don't need to do this right now. Maybe you should take a coffee break, relax for a minute."

John winced as Carson grabbed his arm, pulling it straight and snapping a rubber tube around his bicep. He'd broken rule number one. Never irritate your doctor and now he was going to pay for it. He probably would have been better off with Hammer Hands. He flinched as Carson roughly rubbed the crook of his arm with an alcohol wipe. John grimaced. He rested his head on the pillow and concentrated on looking at the ceiling.

"Just a little stick." Carson murmured as he found a vein and slid the catheter into place. Carson grinned at John as he firmly taped down the I.V. and connected the bag of saline. "That wasn't so bad then, was it?"

John glanced down at his arm and cocked an eyebrow at Carson. "Way better than Hammer Hands."

"You didn't really think I was going to hurt you, did you?" Carson chided him gently. "I'm glad you're feeling better Colonel. But it really is important you don't push it, or you'll lose all the ground you've gained in the past few days."

"Teyla, Ronon, and nine other members of this expedition are still missing," John said stubbornly.

"Don't you think we know that Colonel?" Carson said softly. "Don't ye think it's killing us as much as it's killing you?"

"I know that Carson." John slowly nodded. "How long until I can get back out there?"

Carson sighed; he ran a hand through his hair as he scrutinized John's face. "Normally I'd say recovery time would be at least one week with only a return to light duty after that for another two."

"How long?" John repeated.

"Can't you leave the heavy lifting to Major Lorne?" Carson hedged. "You don't have to do everything yourself."

"They're members of my team Carson," John said intently. "You can't ask me to sit this one out."

"Aye," Carson said quietly. "That's exactly what I must do Colonel Sheppard, before you become a liability to the very ones you so desperately want to save. You're not in any condition to be in the field. Not today, not tomorrow, nor the next."

John glared fiercely at Carson, but the doctor didn't even flinch. "Fine," John said shortly. "Can you at least do one thing for me?"

"What's that?" Carson asked softly.

"Can you ask Rodney to come by?" John settled back against his pillows, his face a mask. He understood Carson's decision, but he couldn't accept it. He just wasn't ready for Carson to know that.

Carson nodded. "Rest Colonel. It's the best thing you can do for your team."

John complied, closing his eyes. Carson was right about one thing. He needed to rest while he could. He needed to be ready when the time came.

3.

Teyla held up a hand and crouched under a small tree. Behind her Ronon, Myers and Anderson instantly stilled. She pointed ahead. A small patrol had just come around the bend in the mountain path. Carefully inching backwards, they flattened themselves out of sight underneath an overhang, holding their breath as the five member patrol passed them by on horseback.

Of the four members of SGA-5 they'd come to rescue, only two were still alive. This according to a band of refugees they'd run into in the caves that snaked through the underside of the mountain range bordering the village of Tarsa. Among the refugees was Jasper, one of the leaders of the Agannan people, or rather, what was left of the Agannan people. The attack on Tarsa had been the culmination of a full scale assault on Aganna by the Terrarians to the south. Their objective: to capture the Stargate and destroy it. The Terrarians believed all the evils in their world could be attributed to the Stargate, that the Stargate was responsible for bringing the Wraith to their world. The Terrarians had tried for years to convince the Agannans to destroy the gate, but Agannan society relied too heavily on the gate for trade and they had steadfastly refused. So the Terrarians had decided to take it by force, ravaging every Agannan village in their path. The Terrarians claimed the Agannan people were traitors, that they'd collaborated with the Wraith, and their punishment was death.

Every Tarsan citizen who had not escaped the initial assault had been slaughtered: men, women, children, the weak and infirm. The village had been set afire and their bodies burned. With sorrow in his eyes, Jasper had expressed his gratitude for the quick actions of Riggs and Bentley, two of the members of SGA-5. They'd valiantly staved off an assault at the rear of the village, laying down cover fire to give Jasper and twenty more villagers time to flee into the hills. Before escaping, Jasper had seen both men fall to Terrarian arrows.

The Terrarian army had set up their base camp around the Stargate only hours after Teyla, Ronon and their team had stepped through. Patrols of the Terrarian army now methodically roamed the hills hunting for survivors. Teyla knew she was witnessing genocide, and it filled her with both rage and sadness.

Teyla breathed a sigh of relief as the enemy patrol passed them by. The Terrarians might not be an advanced civilization by Atlantis standards, but they knew how to fight. It was in the first skirmish with the Terrarians that Ronon and Teyla had lost Tyler and Dobbs. The second skirmish had cost them Donovan as well. To make matters worse, the plains below Tarsa had been flooded by reinforcements the day before. Avoiding Terrarian soldiers was becoming harder and harder, and now they were running low on ammunition.

They'd found potable water in an underground stream and between the hunting skills of both Ronon and Teyla, they had managed to find food, but their situation was growing desperate and Teyla didn't know how much longer they could avoid detection. The remaining survivors of the Agannan people were fleeing north through the mountain passes. Teyla knew if they were going to follow, they would need to decide quickly, before the Terrarians closed off those passes. She glanced back at Myers and Anderson. They'd lost five men on this mission, and they still had two members of SGA-5 unaccounted for. Jasper didn't recall seeing them after the Terrarians had attacked, but another group of refugees believed they had seen Dickens and Masterson making a run for it into the mountains. They'd tried making radio contact, but thus far had been unable to raise them.

Teyla glanced at Ronon and they eased back onto the mountain path. They had spent the last two days circling what remained of Tarsa. Ronon had scouted the area around the gate, but it was heavily guarded. Two times the gate had opened, its shimmering blue event horizon taunting them as a mirage torments a thirsty man in the desert. Teyla knew Elizabeth was trying to contact them, but the proximity of Terrarian soldiers had made communication with Atlantis impossible.

"We have no choice but to go deeper into the mountains," Teyla spoke in a hushed voice. "The lower lying areas are thick with Terrarian patrols. We need to put some distance between us and them."

Ronon nodded shortly.

"What about Dickens and Masterson?" Myers asked.

"We'll keep trying to raise them on the radio," Teyla rested her arm on her P-90. "That's all we can do right now."

A sudden shout from the encampment below had the four of them scrambling for cover. Teyla inched her way to the edge of the trail. She raised her field glasses, peering over the edge. Her stomach dropped. She'd found Dickens and Masterson, unfortunately, so had the Terrarians. She scooched backwards until she reached the remainder of her team. They melted into the trees, breaking a trail deeper into the mountains. It was a bitter fact that there was nothing they could do for Dickens and Masterson now. Atlantis would come for them. John would come for them. Of this Teyla was certain. Then, they would rescue Dickens and Masterson, if they were still alive, and they would get off this stinking planet.

4.

Carson stretched his aching back and closed out the chart on Lt. Abramson. He was recovering nicely from a minor fall on M87 913 and had already been released to his quarters. Moving the cursor to another folder, he clicked open the results of Colonel Sheppard's latest blood work and nodded his head in satisfaction. John's blood chemistry was returning to normal and Carson expected to be able to release him from the infirmary the next morning.

Surreptitiously, Carson poked his head around his work station and observed said Colonel. He was deep in conversation with Rodney, a data pad on the bed between them, a laptop in Rodney's hands. Every once in a while Rodney's voice would rise, immediately quelled by a harsh word from the Colonel. There was no doubt, a plot was underway, but it was one thing for John to break out of the infirmary for a visit to Elizabeth's office, it was quite another for John to break out of Atlantis itself.

Reassured that Colonel Sheppard was grounded for the duration, Carson turned his attention back to his computer monitor. Idly he wondered what plot Rodney and John were hatching. He guessed it was rescue plan, one that Major Lorne would most likely carry out.

"_Dr. Beckett."_ Zelenka's voice came over Carson's radio.

"Yes, Dr. Zelenka, what is it?" Carson responded.

"_Er….we have something of a situation here."_ Zelenka responded, sounding slightly embarrassed. _"In the Biolab."_

"What is it Radek?" Carson repeated impatiently.

"_I'm afraid I need your assistance, Doctor. I seem to have fallen, and I can't get up."_

"Don't move." Carson ordered. He motioned to one of his orderlies. "I'm on my way. Does it hurt anywhere?"

"_Um…I might have wrenched my back."_

Carson swept out of the infirmary, the orderly and a gurney in tow. Radek didn't sound too badly injured, although what he could have been doing in the biolab that resulted in a fall, Carson couldn't imagine.

Swiftly Carson made his way through the halls of Atlantis. "Almost there Radek," he said reassuringly into his radio. But when he burst through the door of the Biolab, Radek stood in the middle of the room nervously twisting his hands.

"You said you'd fallen," Carson stared at Radek in confusion.

"Yes. I did," Radek fumbled his words. "I did fall."

Carson glanced around the lab in suspicion. "What the hell is going on Dr. Zelenka?"

"They made me do it," Radek blurted out.

"Colonel Sheppard." Carson closed his eyes, worry clutching at his chest.

As Radek stammered out an explanation, Carson turned tail and ran. His feet pounded on the stone floors of Atlantis. If he was right, then John had figured out a way to get through the Stargate, and it probably involved a puddle jumper. Breathless, he bolted into the transporter, smashing his finger on the point nearest the jumper bay. When the doors flew open, he charged down the hallway. At a dead run, he passed his hand over the door controls to the jumper bay. Still running, he saw a jumper, its back hatch open. Visible in the pilot's seat was Colonel Sheppard, his hands on the controls. Rodney sat next to him. Major Lorne and a small squadron of Marines took up the rear compartment.

John's hand hit the hatch door control too late. Carson flung himself into the jumper.

"Just where the hell do you think you're going Colonel Sheppard?" Carson panted, leaning his hands on his thighs as he tried to catch his breath.

"To get my team back," John stared at Carson defiantly. "You're not stopping me."

"Fine," Carson collapsed on the seat behind John. "Then I'm going with you."

The hatch door closed and Carson closed his eyes. The jumper dropped to the Gate room and Carson knew one thing for sure. If they survived this mission, Elizabeth was going to kill them all.

Tbc…


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks to everyone for sticking with this story. I hope you're still enjoying it. And there's plenty of whump still to come.

Thank you to everyone who's left reviews. I always love hearing your reactions!

Chapter 7

They travelled single file up the narrow mountain path, Ronon at the front, Myers and Anderson in the middle and Teyla bringing up the rear. Their horses' hooves clopped steadily against the dry packed earth of the trail. Knowing they needed to put some distance between themselves and the Terrarian patrols, Teyla had snuck upon a small party of Terrarians during the night, dispatched the soldier standing guard and stolen their horses. They were hoping to make the mountain pass by late afternoon and head south where they could safely wait for rescue.

Myers slapped at his neck with a muttered curse. Insects buzzed all around them, and Teyla knew she already had several large welts from insect bites on her neck and arms.

The sun blazed directly overhead. The small scrubby trees that dotted the mountainside did little to provide cover from the searing heat, and Teyla swiped a hand across her forehead, pushing her sweat dampened hair out of her eyes. She loosened her canteen at her hip and sipped just enough to wet her dry throat and mouth. They would need to find a stream soon, for they didn't have enough water to last the journey ahead of them.

Her horse shied nervously underneath her, and Teyla firmly gripped the reins, murmuring soothing words as she leaned over and ran a hand down the horses' withers.

Leaning over saved her life. An arrow whistled directly over her head, lodging in the trunk of a tree beside her.

"Attack!" Teyla yelled, yanking on the reins and pushing her horse into a swerve through the trees. The cover of the scrubby trees was all they had to put between themselves and the hail of arrows coming down on them. Teyla gripped her P-90, laying out cover fire behind her. The swarm of arrows lessened as the soldiers ducked for cover, and Teyla sent another burst of gunfire into the trees behind them.

The closest cover was a rock formation about three hundred yards up the trail. Teyla nodded at Ronon and as he made for the rocks, she sprayed the tree line with another round of fire. She knew as soon as Ronon reached the rocks, he would lay down fire so she could retreat as well. She prayed that he hurried. She was down to her last magazine.

Vague shapes lurked behind the cover of trees and fallen logs. She counted six in the attacking patrol, and she couldn't be sure that there weren't more attempting to flank them.

"Go!" She yelled at Myers, signaling Anderson to follow him. Her bullets chipped the bark off the trees and sent pieces of dirt spitting into the air. But some of them must have hit home, because she heard several cries of pain followed by quiet moans.

But it wasn't enough. Teyla saw one of the Terrarian soldiers take position and send an arrow flying straight towards the fleeing Atlantians.

Anderson cried out as an arrow punched into his shoulder. His body wavered in the saddle and he tilted dangerously over the side of his panicking horse.

"Myers!" Teyla shouted. "Help him!" She sent another burst of gunfire into the trees and smiled in grim satisfaction when she saw the Terrarian who'd shot Anderson fall heavily to the ground.

Seeing that his teammate was in trouble, Myers wheeled his horse around, grabbing the reins of Anderson's spooked mare. As Teyla spent the last rounds of her magazine, Myers got Anderson to the safety of the rocks.

Teyla yanked on the reins and kicked her horses' flanks, driving him towards the rock formation. She smiled as she heard the burst of machine gun fire. Ronon was laying cover for her. She was nearly to safety when her horse screamed, its legs going out from under him. Teyla flew over his head.

Both woman and horse crashed into the earth and were still.

* * *

John cloaked the jumper seconds after it cleared the gate. He circled the valley, surveying the scene below. Hundreds of white tents dotted the grassland, looking to John eerily like gravestones in a cemetery. Undoubtedly this was the invading army's home base. Soldiers had leapt up at the gate activity, pointing and waving at the sky in confusion as the ship they witnessed coming through disappeared into thin air.

John frowned as he took another pass by the gate.

"What the hell are they doing?" Rodney stared at the activity taking place behind the gate in confusion.

Men and women, prisoners John assumed, were surrounded by armed soldiers. They were digging a gigantic hole directly behind the gate.

"Shit," John muttered. "They're going to bury the gate." He glanced over at Rodney. "Find our people, Rodney. We don't have a lot of time."

Furiously Rodney tapped the keys on a data pad. Suddenly a map of the region flared to life on the HUD; six red dots blinked steadily, four in the nearby mountain range, two directly underneath them.

"Those four," Rodney pointed to the map of the mountain range, "are the subcutaneous transmitters for Teyla, Ronon, Myers and Anderson." He pointed to the two below them. "Those are Dickens and Masterson."

"That's only six," John glared sourly at Rodney. "Six out of eleven. Where are the rest of our guys?"

"I don't know." Rodney tapped furiously at the data pad. "Either there's something wrong with their transmitters…" He stared helplessly at John.

"Or they're dead," John finished. Resolutely he banked the jumper, and then began to climb.

"Who are we going after first?" Carson asked in a hushed voice from the seat behind him.

"Teyla and Ronon." John studied the map on the HUD, adjusting the course of the jumper accordingly. "Major Lorne," he called to the back of the jumper. "I need an extraction plan for Dickens and Masterson."

"You got it Colonel," Lorne nodded.

The cloaked jumper sped through the sky, quickly closing the distance to the four blinking red dots.

"I'm gonna need the LSD tuned into the transmitters, Rodney," John glanced at the scientist.

"Done," Rodney nodded, his fingers flying across the data pad.

John eased the jumper down until he was skimming the tops of the trees. And then the four red dots were directly below them.

"There!" Rodney called out, pointing through the front window.

Myers was crouched behind a rock formation, spraying machine gun fire into the trees. Eight enemy combatants were slowly inching their way up through the trees. Anderson was huddled against the rocks, obviously injured. Ronon had made his way down the side of the rock formation attempting to reach an unconscious Teyla. He'd already shot and killed three Terrarians who had tried to reach her first.

"Crap." John breathed. "They're pinned down." He swung the jumper up and pulled it around. He had no place to land.

"Hold on, people." John called out. He fired a drone into the tree line. The resulting explosion sent trees and enemy soldiers flying. John twisted the jumper upside down and circled back around, firing another drone. The remaining soldiers began to beat a hasty retreat.

John tapped the radio. "Ronon."

"Sheppard." Ronon's relieved voice came through radio. "Nice timing."

"How is everyone down there?" John asked, looking for a place to land the jumper.

"Anderson took an arrow to the shoulder, and Teyla's down." Ronon's voice huffed as he ran.

"We're coming buddy." John put the jumper down in a clearing and looked back at his team. "Let's go get 'em!" John called, opening the rear hatch. Gingerly, he eased himself from the pilot's seat, his side stiff and aching. Turning, he saw Carson looking at him with concern.

"Colonel, maybe you should stay with the jumper. Let Lorne and the others go," Carson suggested. He ducked into the hatch, pulling a med kit from the supplies.

"Forget it, Carson," John growled. "I'm fine."

Firmly gripping his P-90, John followed Lorne and the team of Marines from the jumper. He squinted against the bright light and pulled his shades from his vest. He checked the LSD. He'd had to put down about a half a mile away from Ronon, Teyla and the others. Their red dots blinked steadily on the screen. But more of the white dots remained in the vicinity than he liked, and three in particular were closing in the Atlantians' position.

Silently John motioned his team forward. They broke into a slow jog, John and Lorne on point, Rodney and Carson in the middle, and the team of Marines bringing up the rear. John's side began to burn and he steadfastly ignored the worried looks both Rodney and Carson were sending his way. He glanced down at the LSD. Teyla and Ronon were about 100 yards from the ridgeline where Myers and Anderson were holed up. John waved Lorne and the Marines up the mountain path towards the rocks; he held up two fingers indicating there were two bogies up there as well, and then he signaled Rodney and Carson to follow him into the tree line.

John tapped his radio. "Ronon, we're almost there. How's Teyla?"

"She's coming around," Ronon replied.

Seconds later, John burst through a small copse of trees to find Ronon bending over a groggy Teyla. She was sitting up against a tree holding her head. A dead horse was on the ground a few feet away, an arrow through its neck.

"Teyla," John crouched down, carefully wrapping his arm around his side. He fought the urge to sit down next to her and forced himself to remain in a mostly upright position.

"I'm fine, John," Teyla murmured, a look of relief on her face. "I knew you would find us."

"Let's get you out of here. Lorne went to pick up Myers and Anderson." John held out a hand to help Teyla to her feet.

"Sheppard!" In one motion, Ronon swung his gun around even as he pushed John to the ground. An arrow landed with a solid thunk in a patch of dirt a few feet away. Taking careful aim, Ronon fired on the attacking soldier. The man flew backwards and was still.

Rodney stared wide eyed at the dead soldier. "Let's get out of here!"

A round of gunfire sounded from the ridgeline.

"Carson, get Teyla to the jumper!" John ordered as he pulled himself to his feet and began running towards Lorne's position, Ronon fast on his heels.

John and Ronon sped through the trees even as four more dots appeared on the LSD. John gripped his gun and gritted his teeth. Perspiration popped on his forehead, and his side felt like it was going to burst. More gunfire sounded from up ahead. Ronon quickly outran John and thrust ahead of him, clearing the rocks first.

Right on Ronon's heels, John burst over the ridgeline. Lorne and his men were defending an attack on their flank. Ronon added his gunfire to theirs as John ran towards Myers and Anderson.

Myers was unsuccessfully trying to get Anderson to his feet, but the man was barely conscious and groaning in agony. The shaft of an arrow protruded from his upper back.

"We gotta go. Now!" John yelled, grabbing one of Anderson's arms. Myers grabbed the other one, and the two of them lifted the hapless man to his feet. Half dragging, half carrying Anderson, John and Myers ran towards the path Lorne, Ronon and his team were clearing for them.

John bit his lip to keep from crying out as he felt something rip in his side. Forcing himself forwards, he kept running. Inch by inch they made their way back to the safety of the jumper until finally they were inside. John gently let Anderson fall to the floor and he leapt to the pilot's seat, closing the hatch door as Lorne, Ronon and the Marines spilled inside.

"Carson," John called as he guided the jumper up out of the clearing. "How are they?"

"Teyla should be fine, just a wee bit of a concussion," Carson said intently. "Anderson's not so good. The arrow may have pierced a lung. We need to get him back to Atlantis as soon as possible."

"Let's go pick up Dickens and Masterson and go home, then," John said, speeding the jumper back towards the gate. Surreptitiously he shifted in his seat, hoping to ease the burning pain in his side without Rodney or Carson seeing his discomfort. He dropped his hand to his side and inwardly cursed as he felt something wet on his fingers. Glancing down, he saw blood, and knew he'd torn his stitches. Determinedly he wiped his fingers on his BDU's. He could pass the blood off as Anderson's if Carson noticed. Nothing was going to get in the way of bringing his men home.

* * *

Elizabeth tapped her pen on the desk and glanced at the clock for the sixth time in the past two minutes. Disgustedly she tossed her pen across the room. When John got back she was going to have his head, confine him to quarters, and ground him for a month. She should have expected that he would root out the rescue mission and attach himself to it. She should have had Carson put him in restraints and attached five armed guards to his hospital bed. God only knew what trouble he was getting himself into, the further damage he was doing to his body. Unable to sit and watch the clock any longer, she got up and headed towards the gate room.

"Chuck," she called as she entered the Control Room. "Dial M15 637. I want a status report from Major Lorne."

"Yes, Ma'am," Chuck complied, dialing the gate.

Elizabeth tapped her foot impatiently. She walked towards the railing and peered down at the gate. It wasn't doing anything. "Chuck?" she asked. "What's going on?"

"I don't know," Chuck looked at her worriedly. "It's not letting me dial in. The gate won't lock."

Elizabeth stared helplessly at the silent gate and decided right then and there if Colonel Sheppard brought everyone back through in one piece, including himself, she'd forgive him everything that had come before.

* * *

John sped the jumper back towards the gate. The only way to safely extricate Dickens and Masterson from the Terrarian soldiers' clutches was infiltration. John would land the jumper close to the Terrarian encampment and Major Lorne and two of his men would hijack a couple of uniforms, walk right into the camp and bring out Dickens and Masterson. Elegant in its simplicity.

John banked left, sending the jumper over the valley. In one glance he knew their plan was shot to hell.

The Terrarian army was in a panic. The Stargate had been engaged, its surface a shimmering blue.

"What the hell." Rodney stared at the valley floor in shock.

"Wraith." John breathed. He glanced at Rodney. "We need a new plan."

TBC…


	8. Chapter 8

Wow, I can't believe my little one shot is now eight chapters long!! Thank you so much for continuing to read.

Again, a special thanks to those who have left reviews. It really does mean so much.

And to RinkRat—you are the most awesome beta ever. Much thanks, my dear.

Chapter 8

"Hang on!" John cried as he took the jumper into a dive to avoid a Wraith dart. His eyes intently on the HUD, he maneuvered the cloaked jumper out of the way of a dozen others.

"What the hell?!?" Rodney yelped, leaning so far over the jumper control console to peer down into the valley floor that John thought he was going to hit his head on the window.

"They're trying to pull down the gate." John veered right, avoiding yet another dart. The motion sent Rodney bouncing back into his seat.

"It won't do any good," Rodney stammered. "It won't save them from the Wraith. It will only stop us from going home!"

"I really don't think they care that much about us, Rodney," John said wryly.

John circled the valley, looking for a safe place to hide the jumper as close as possible to the location of Dickens and Masterson. Chaos reigned on the ground. A full scale culling was underway, and those Terrarians that weren't swept up into the darts to be fed upon later were being wiped off the face of the earth. To be honest, he didn't care that much about the Terrarians; they deserved what they got as far as he was concerned, but he wished the Wraith would have held off their attack long enough for him to have rescued his two remaining men and gotten everyone safely back to Atlantis.

John put the jumper on the ground and pulled himself from his seat. "Carson and Rodney, you stay here with Teyla and Anderson." John shook his head before Rodney could voice his protest. "I need you here Rodney. If anything goes wrong, you fly this jumper the hell out of here." At Rodney's unwilling assent, John turned his attention to the rescue team. "The rest of you are with me. We're going in to get Dickens and Masterson. We stay together. We clear a path in and out. Shoot anyone who gets in our way. Got it?"

"John, I can help." Teyla attempted to stand, swayed, and then sat heavily back down on the bench seat.

"Sit this one out Teyla," John gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Be careful John." Teyla nodded reluctantly, squeezing John's hand.

"I will Teyla," John nodded. He tucked several extra magazines of ammo into his tac vest and ignored the piercing look Carson was giving him. He knew the doctor didn't approve of his leading this mission, but nothing was going to stop him from getting his men back. He firmly gripped his P-90 in his hands, took a deep breath and opened the rear hatch. "Okay. Move out!"

John sped out of the jumper at a fast jog, Ronon taking position directly behind him. Lorne, Myers and the three Marines fanned out at the rear.

They made directly for the stargate, cutting straight across open grassland.

"Beam!" Ronon shouted a warning as the bright light of the culling beam swept towards them.

All seven Atlantians dropped and rolled out of the way. Painfully, John righted himself, managing to get his legs under him. His thigh muscles screamed in protest and for a moment John didn't think he was going to make it back to his feet. Then Ronon had a grip on his arm and John suddenly found himself standing.

"Thanks big guy," John panted, his head swimming. He checked the LSD and motioned his people onward.

From the little resistance they encountered, it quickly became clear most of the Terrarian army had been routed by the Wraith attack. It seemed the only remaining troop organization Terrarian was centered on the stargate itself. Dozens of ropes were looped around the gate and both prisoners and soldiers alike were straining on those ropes to bring the gate down into the massive hole that had been hollowed out in the earth beneath the gate.

A rousing cheer went up from the Terrarians and John watched in both horror and awe as the massive stargate crashed to the ground, spewing a choking cloud of dust. It was then he noticed the wagons drawn up to the edge of the hole. Mounds of dirt and rock were tossed from the back of the wagons into the hole until bit by bit the brilliant shimmering blue of the wormhole began to disappear.

The Wraith had realized too late what the Terrarians were doing, but they were now converging on the gate and in a split second, John saw what was left of the Terrarian army panic. He watched helplessly as the Terrarians began to dispatch their prisoners, executing them one by one and tossing their bodies on top of the pile of debris that covered the gate.

"No." John growled, low and guttural. He gripped his P-90 hard in his hands, but there was nothing he could do. If he fired at the Terrarians, he was just as likely to kill the prisoners himself.

John forced himself to run faster; every strike of his boot upon the ground caused a wave of red hot agony to course through his side. He ground his teeth and pushed himself forward. He barreled straight towards the blinking red dots on the LSD, knowing his team was right behind him. All he wanted now was to get his men and get out.

A Wraith stepped into his field of vision. Reflexively, he squeezed the trigger on the P-90, sending a hail of bullets into the Wraith until the creature fell heavily to the ground. John leapt over the body and kept running until he finally reached the edge of the crater.

"Dickens! Masterson!" John yelled, finally catching sight of his missing men.

The two Atlantians were trade negotiators, not soldiers, but upon seeing their military commander, they turned on their captors with a savagery borne of desperation. Within seconds Dickens ripped the sword from the Terrarian guarding them while Masterson shoved him. With a scream, the Terrarian soldier's body sailed into the pit, landing with a thud on the dirt and rocks below.

Other prisoners, emboldened by the actions of the Atlantians joined in on the attack. Terrarian guards, realizing they had a prison break underway in addition to the Wraith attack, attempted to quell it quickly, striking out with knives and swords. John watched as one prisoner was simply thrown, still alive, down into the deep crater.

The fighting was too close for their automatic weapons to be any use, so John used the butt of his P-90 like a club, brutally smashing it into the face of an attacking Terrarian. The man went down without a sound. John pulled his sidearm from its holster and sent a bullet flying into the head of a Terrarian soldier about to skewer a shrieking prisoner.

"Come on!" He yelled towards Dickens and Masterson, clubbing another Terrarian guard who stood between him and his men. He noticed the rest of his team was also using their guns like clubs, slowly opening a path in the teaming mass of bodies. Ronon was methodically picking off Wraith attempting to flank them.

Suddenly he felt himself thrown down to the ground. The air went out of him and he fought for breath. Searing pain lanced through his back and side. His eyes refused to focus, and he blinked in confusion. The ground shook, and a white heat blasted over him.

"Crap," he muttered. He guessed the Wraith had grown tired of fighting this one out on the ground and had decided to blast them away from space. He shook his head to clear it, and looked around. Ronon was already getting up, helping Myers and Lorne to their feet. Apparently, no longer caring about the state of their prisoners, the Terrarians broke ranks and fled, tearing back towards the tree line to find a place to hide.

"Sheppard!" Ronon yelled, stooping down next to a motionless body. He turned the man over, paused, and then pulled the tags from around his neck.

"I'm up!" John groaned. Biting back a curse, John forced himself to his feet, fresh pain spiking in his legs and back. Stumbling forwards, he saw Dickens pick himself up off the ground. Masterson wasn't moving.

"Colonel Sheppard!" Dickens ran towards his fallen comrade. "Help me!"

His body screaming in protest, John ran towards the two men they'd come to rescue.

"He's alive," Dickens said anxiously.

"We're going to have to carry him back to the jumper." John took a deep breath, fighting the wooziness threatening to overcome him.

Tapping his radio, John gave the order for everyone to retreat. He glanced around to get a visual of his team. Ronon and Lorne had taken point, clearing the way for their retreat and blowing away any remaining Wraith attempting to get in their way. Myers was limping heavily, but moving on his own, and the Marines, Dunn and Gibbs were covering their six. Gritting his teeth, John pulled Masterson up. He stumbled under the dead weight and then found his footing, shifting Masterson over his shoulders in a fireman's lift. His back and side screamed anew, but knowing he had no choice, John ignored it, pushing himself forward by sheer strength of will.

John's vision constricted to the ground beneath his feet, his focus purely on forcing his feet to move, one stride at a time, one foot in front of the other. From time to time he could feel Dickens' anxious hand on his elbow, as if attempting to steady him. Time lost all meaning, he just knew he had to keep moving. He couldn't stop, because if he did, he wouldn't get back up again.

"Colonel."

John felt his legs start to give way and he cursed. He felt himself tilting as he lost his center of gravity. Maybe he could at least cushion Masterson's fall. Strong hands grabbed his elbows, and he steadied; he felt someone else bear his weight.

"Colonel, you can let go now."

Putting Carson's name to the voice, and knowing they'd reached the relative safety of the jumper, John let himself fall to his knees, easing Masterson off his aching shoulders. Carson and Rodney pulled the unconscious man into the jumper. He felt a touch on his shoulder and glanced up to see Ronon's concerned face peering down at him.

"Everyone's here." Ronon said. "Let's go."

John nodded numbly, knowing everyone wasn't there. Lt. Mara's body was still out there and only his dog tags would make it back to Earth.

"Sheppard." Ronon gripped John's elbows, heaving the smaller man to his feet. "You okay?"

"Peachy." John quipped, lurching his way through the hatch to the pilot's seat.

Carson was busy attending to his newest patients, but even so, John felt a concerned stare and he forced himself to walk a little straighter, which, John thought, considering the growing pain in his back was quite a feat.

John eased himself into his seat, gripping the controls hard in his hands as he attempted to force back the darkness encroaching on his vision. His head swam and he felt his hands tremble. A deep breath cleared his head and he raised the jumper from the valley floor. He clung to the thought that he had one thing left to do: safely pilot the jumper home. Then he could collapse into bed and happily sleep for a week.

He flew the jumper straight up into the sky and headed back towards the gate. He was hopeful the Terrarians hadn't been able to completely bury it. The formation of the event horizon should burn off the debris covering it, and he could dive into the wormhole like a diver plunging into a pool.

"Dial it up," he ordered Rodney.

He breathed his first sigh of relief when the dial up connected. He breathed his second when he saw the energy vortex punch a hole through the rocks and dirt covering it.

Unfortunately, the Wraith saw it too, and they sent one last round of fire into the now uncloaked retreating jumper.

The jumper violently shuddered, and John fought to keep the jumper on course. Gripping the controls with all his strength, he guided the jumper over the gate and drove it directly through the center of the bright blue puddle.

* * *

Elizabeth ran to the gate room, her feet pounding on the stone floor. The gate had activated and they'd received Rodney's IDC. Her heart pounding, she reached the top of the steps leading down to the gate room floor just as the jumper exploded out of the event horizon. She skidded to a stop. The jumper was coming in too fast. She watched in horror as the jumper hit the floor and careened out of control, slamming into the far wall where it came to a sudden and abrupt stop.

TBC…


	9. Chapter 9

My continued thanks to everyone reading my little whump filled story. And as always thank you so much if you've left a review.

RinkRat—you're the best. Thanks for the beta!!

Chapter 9

Carson groaned, his chest straining to take in enough air. It felt like an elephant was sitting on top of him, and weakly he began flailing his arms, attempting to free himself.

"Easy Doc," Lorne's calm voice hovered above him. "Hold on a sec."

Suddenly, the weight was gone and Carson took a deep breath. His heart rate slowed in relief, and he blinked his eyes, trying to bring the world back into focus. He saw Lorne gently put Anderson on the floor of the jumper and he realized the weight on his chest had been Anderson. He vaguely remembered holding on to the injured man, attempting to cushion the man with his own body as they'd been tossed into the wall of the jumper during the crash.

"You okay Doc?" Lorne asked, bending over him and looking at him with concern.

"I think so." Carson nodded, instantly regretting it. Gingerly, he touched his fingers to his temple and winced. He was probably going to need stitches.

"What happened?" Carson stiffly sat up.

"We crashed in the gate room, I think," Lorne responded. "The door controls must be busted. We can't get the rear hatch open, although Dunn, Gibbs and Ronon are still trying."

The trick to conducting triage was to rapidly assess the conditions of the injured, zeroing in on those who needed immediate medical treatment. Despite being tossed around like rag dolls, Ronon, Dunn, Gibbs and Lorne had escaped relatively unscathed. Of his three previous patients; Teyla was conscious and alert, Anderson was groggy and in pain from the arrow still in his shoulder, but was holding his own, and Masterson was coming around.

"Carson!" He heard Rodney's panicked yell from the front of the jumper. "Get up here!"

Carson grabbed his medical kit and lurched towards the front of the jumper. For just a moment, his vision grayed, and he felt his head swim.

"Doc!" Lorne's hand was quickly on his elbow.

"I'm fine," Carson assured him. As quickly as it had come over him, it was gone and he took a deep breath and continued to the cockpit.

"Carson, you have to help him." Rodney clutched one hand painfully to his side as he leaned over an unconscious Colonel Sheppard.

John was sprawled over the control console. One arm was flung over his head, the other hung limply at his side. Blood seeped from a wound on his head.

"Are you okay Rodney?" Carson asked as he gently placed two fingers on John's neck. He frowned in concern. John's pulse fluttered sluggishly under his fingertips.

"I'll be fine," Rodney sat down heavily on one of the seats. "I think I may have cracked a rib or two when I hit the console. How's Sheppard?"

Carson pulled a penlight from his med kit and flashed it in John's eyes. John groaned, trying to pull away.

"Colonel Sheppard?" Carson noted with relief that John's pupils were equal and reactive, which meant a head wound wasn't the cause of his patient's distress. "I want you to remain still, okay? Do not try to move."

"Ronon, I need a little help up here." Carson called to the back of the jumper. "And bring the backboard with you."

"Sorry about the…hard landing." John mumbled weakly. "Everyone…okay?"

"Everyone's fine," Carson patted John's arm reassuringly. He glanced up as Ronon appeared through the bulkhead doorway. "I need you to help me move him to the floor. I need to stabilize his neck and back."

With Ronon's help, Carson maneuvered John onto the backboard.

"Easy Colonel," Carson soothed as John moaned in pain. He glanced across John's body at Ronon. "I need you to cut off John's tac vest and shirt for me."

"You got it Doc," Ronon pulled a pair of scissors from the med kit. "Is he going to be okay?"

"Colonel Sheppard will be just fine," Carson said, smiling down at his patient. John stared groggily up at his doctor, slowly blinking his eyes. "Can you tell me where it hurts, lad?"

"Back," John grunted, squeezing his eyes shut in pain. "Mm..side."

"Help me roll him," Carson directed Ronon. He pursed his lips and held back a swear. A piece of shrapnel was lodged in John's lower back.

Without asking, Ronon applied pressure bandages to the wounds and they carefully eased the injured man back down onto the backboard. John let out a muffled groan and Carson murmured an apology as he gently taped John's head to the board. Until he knew for sure John had suffered no spinal injuries, Carson didn't want to take any chances. Quickly Carson inserted an I.V. and started John on oxygen.

"We need to get him to the infirmary," Carson said urgently. "We need that door open now."

Ronon nodded, springing to his feet. He disappeared through the bulkhead door.

"How are you doing over there, Rodney?" Carson asked the too silent scientist, his eyes remaining on John.

"I'm fine," Rodney said curtly. "Just help Colonel Sheppard."

The banging from the back of the jumper was replaced by shouts of triumph as the hatch door finally opened and rescue and medical teams spilled inside. Anderson, Teyla, and Masterson were moved out first, clearing the way to bring a gurney up to the cockpit.

"Careful." Carson warned, as they lifted John's backboard onto the gurney. Carson's eyes snapped to Rodney as the injured scientist attempted to stand. "Wait for your ride Rodney. I don't want you further injuring your ribs by moving around."

Reluctantly, Rodney nodded, easing himself back to his seat. As Carson escorted John's gurney out of the jumper, an anxious Elizabeth immediately sprang to John's side. Blearily John blinked up at her and tried to smile.

"Sorry, Liz…beth," John murmured. "Had..to..go."

She shook her head and her eyes glistened. "Don't worry about that now, John. Just hang in there, okay?" She firmly squeezed his hand.

"How is he, Carson?" She looked at the doctor, her voice husky with barely contained fear.

"We'll know more when we get him under the scanner," Carson said as they hurried John's gurney down the hall towards the infirmary. "He took some shrapnel in his back from a Wraith blast on the planet and he re-opened his incision site. As soon as we know the extent of the damage, we'll be taking him back into surgery."

When they reached the infirmary, Carson stopped Elizabeth from following as his staff converged around John, hooking him up to monitors and hanging units of blood before moving him to the scanner.

"Wait here Luv." Carson squeezed her shoulders. "I'll take good care of him. I'll let you know when we get him settled in recovery."

Elizabeth nodded forlornly, and Carson patted her shoulder one more time before turning his back on her and focusing solely on his patient.

Carson walked to the monitor and studied the results of the scan. A wave of weariness overtook him and he found himself needing to sit down. He felt a hand on his elbow and he looked up to find Joanne frowning at him in concern.

"I'm fine, dear," Carson shook off the fatigue.

"You were in that crash too, Dr. Beckett," Joanne said with concern. "Maybe you should sit this one out."

"I'm fine," Carson repeated firmly. "We have an infirmary full of patients and we need every doctor on staff. Believe me, when I get Colonel Sheppard through this, I'll take a nice long rest."

"Well, at least let me bandage that cut on your head," Joanne said, unconvinced. "And I'll let Dr. Cole know you'll be ready for your post mission check as soon as you get out of surgery."

"Thank you Joanne," Carson smiled as the nurse fussed over the cut on his forehead. When she'd finished, he said, "Can you please get Colonel Sheppard prepped for surgery?"

As Joanne and the rest of the O.R. team moved John into the operating theatre, Carson read through the scan's results once more. The shrapnel had lacerated the Colonel's right kidney. He didn't know how the Colonel had managed to carry Masterson all the way back to the jumper, much less pilot the jumper through a difficult maneuver to get them back through the stargate before passing out. He just knew that Colonel Sheppard had one of the most indomitable wills of any man he'd ever met.

After scrubbing up, Carson walked into the operating theatre. As his scrub nurse fitted the latex gloves over his hands, Carson looked over at John. He'd already been anesthetized, the breathing tube obscuring his face.

"I'm going to get you through this John," Carson promised. "You just keep fighting."

Carson stepped up to the table. He nodded at Joanne. "Scalpel," he said.

* * *

Elizabeth paced between Teyla and Rodney's infirmary beds. Their injuries had been determined to be minor, but both were being kept overnight for observation. Ronon tilted back in a chair, his feet resting on the bottom of Teyla's bed. It had been five hours since Elizabeth had watched them wheel John into surgery. She thought she was going to lose her mind if she didn't get word soon as to his condition.

Her stomach flip-flopped with nervousness. Once again John had placed his own life at risk to save the lives of those he commanded. She didn't know whether to put him in for commendation or wring his neck. She shook her hands as if that would shake the tension out of her body. The silence in their quiet corner of the infirmary was deafening. Rodney wasn't talking; just tapping away at a data pad he'd cajoled out of his nurse. Ronon was his usual silent, and Teyla appeared to be meditating.

Elizabeth glanced up sharply when she heard the trundle of a gurney. Her heart leapt in her throat when she caught sight of Carson. He looked up at her and smiled. He directed the orderlies to the empty bed next to Teyla's and while they efficiently moved John from the gurney to the hospital bed, Carson settled himself in a chair between Teyla and Rodney.

Elizabeth sat down nervously at the bottom of Rodney's bed and Ronon leaned forward, all his attention focused on the weary doctor. She cleared her throat and asked what they were all thinking. "How is he Carson?"

"It was touch and go," Carson admitted. "We had some difficulty controlling the bleeding in his kidney. He lost a lot of blood. I've also reinserted the drain in his abdomen. We cleaned dirt and debris out of his incision site, and I want to prevent any further infection. His body is too weak to handle any additional strain."

"But he's going to be okay?" Rodney clutched his data pad to his chest, his eyes wide.

"I hope so Rodney," Carson rubbed tiredly at his brow. "If he can make it through the next twenty four hours without any major crises, I expect he'll pull through."

Rodney clamped his mouth shut, and Elizabeth was glad that this time Rodney seemed willing to let Carson's uncertainties about John's condition go.

"You look exhausted Carson." Elizabeth placed a hand on the doctor's shoulder. "You should get some rest."

"You've taken excellent care of him." Teyla reached over and took Carson's hand. "We'll watch over him for a while."

"I'll check back in a bit," Carson nodded reluctantly. "I've instructed the staff to let me know if there's any change."

"He's going to be fine," Elizabeth said confidently, gazing over at John's bed. "John's a fighter. He's not going to give up on us."

Carson stood up. To Elizabeth's surprise, he wobbled unsteadily on his feet.

"Carson?" Elizabeth held out a hand to steady him. "Are you okay?"

Carson stared at her, confusion clouding his blue eyes. He shook his head and attempted to take a step towards her.

Elizabeth watched in shock as Carson's eyes rolled to the back of his head. He stumbled and would have fallen if not for Ronon, who grabbed him before he fell to the cold, hard floor.

"Carson!" Elizabeth knelt down next to the doctor, but he didn't respond, his body completely limp in Ronon's arms.

TBC…

**A/N: I do like my cliffies, don't I? Ha ha….**


	10. Chapter 10

As always, thank you for reading! To everyone who's left a review: thank you so very much! I'm glad to hear you're enjoying the whump because I do so much enjoy writing it!

And to RinkRat who continues to be the best beta ever: thank you thank you!

Chapter 10

John frowned. There was something he had to do. The task urgently tugged at his mind, but every time he tried to grasp it, it darted away, hovering just out of reach. He had to focus, to concentrate. If he could just remember what he had to do…Why couldn't he remember?

And then, in a flash, it came back to him. Finding Teyla and Ronon. Carrying Masterson back to the jumper. The jumper taking fire. Fighting to guide the damaged craft through the stargate and then finally losing control, the wall rushing towards him before everything went black.

His heart pounded in his chest; a high pitched wail went off in the distance. Oh God! Had he killed anyone in the gate room? In the jumper? Why couldn't he move? Was his team dead? Was he? His heart was too fast. He couldn't breathe. The jumper was too fast. He couldn't stop it. He couldn't stop it! The wall rammed into them and he couldn't breathe.

Voices murmured just out of range. Small warm fingers squeezed his hand. Something covered his face and he felt air push into his lungs. He sucked greedily at the air, and he wrapped his fingers around the small hand, focusing on the sense of touch. He tried to follow it back to the surface. He felt his heart begin to slow. He was almost there. And then something warm shot through his veins. His body went numb. His fingers lost their grip. The fog rolled back in; the tendrils of thought pulling at his mind loosened and then were gone. He drifted into the void.

////////////////////////////////////////

Awareness pulled at him. He hurt. The void had muffled the pain, made the pain too distant to feel. But as the void receded, the pain burst like fire through his back and stomach. He groaned. He tried to shrink away from the pain, but the movement only made it worse. He groaned again, and he felt someone take his hand.

"Easy, John."

The voice was warm and soft.

"Open your eyes John." The voice encouraged him.

John found himself trying to obey. He turned his head towards the voice. He tried to pry his eyes open.

"That's right John." The small hand squeezed his again. "Come on John. Open those lovely hazel eyes for me."

John blinked upwards blearily. The woman's face finally came into focus. Dr. Cole.

"Good to see you awake," Dr. Cole smiled. She placed her fingers lightly on his inner wrist. "Do you know your name?"

"Lt. Colonel John Sheppard," John murmured hoarsely.

Dr. Cole nodded, picking up a plastic cup from his bedside table. "Throat hurt?" At John's weak nod, she spooned an ice chip into his mouth. "This should help."

"What happened?" John asked, slowly sucking on the ice.

Dr. Cole sat down on a rolling chair next to the bed and studied several of the monitors. "You tell me."

John closed his eyes, letting the cool water trickle down his throat. He tried to sort through his jumbled thoughts. "We rescued Ronon and Teyla," he said haltingly. "And Myers and Anderson. The Wraith attacked. We went in for Dickens and Masterson. We were about to go through the gate when…" John's eyes flew open. His heart rate increased; he heard the monitor beeping wildly.

"Easy Colonel Sheppard," Dr. Cole stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder.

John gripped the bed sheets in his hands. He gulped for air. "I crashed the jumper, didn't I? I crashed the jumper in the gate room."

"Colonel Sheppard, I need you to slow down your breathing. Do you understand?" Dr. Cole's calm brown eyes met his. "Nice deep breaths."

John breathed deeply, aided by the nasal cannula. The lightheadedness began to go away. He looked desperately at the doctor. "Is everyone okay?"

"Everyone's fine John."

He whipped his head towards the sound of Elizabeth's voice. She smiled at him, but her eyes were pinched with worry.

"It's good to see you awake," she said softly, gently squeezing his hand. "You did quite a number on yourself."

John glanced uncertainly at Dr. Cole. Usually, it was Carson who filled him in on the damage he'd done to his body.

"You took some shrapnel to your lower back," Dr. Cole explained. "It lacerated your kidney. Dr. Beckett repaired the damage and given time it will heal. You tore all the stitches out of your incision site. Dr. Beckett was worried about infection, so he re-inserted the drain. You're going to feel pretty miserable for a while, I'm afraid."

"It took a lot to put Humpty Dumpty back together again, huh?" John winced.

Dr. Cole smiled at him sympathetically. "You'll be with us for at least a week, if not longer, Colonel Sheppard. We need to monitor your kidney function closely. Like I said, we're worried about infection, so we've got you on broad spectrum antibiotics and the drain will make sure your abdomen stays clean."

John shifted uncomfortably. It felt like there was no part of his body that didn't have a tube or wire attached to it. His back was aching, and he suddenly found himself missing Carson's kindly blue eyes. Somehow, his friend had a way of making all of it feel better.

"Where is Carson?" John asked.

The smile on Elizabeth's face momentarily slipped and worry flared in his gut. It was unlike Carson not to be there when he woke up.

And then Dr. Cole smoothly interjected. "Carson's resting Colonel. And so should you be. It's about time for your pain medication."

John watched as Dr. Cole injected the medication into one of his I.V.'s. Within minutes the world got fuzzy and his eyes slowly drooped closed. He felt Elizabeth's hand in his, and he drifted off into the darkness once more.

* * *

Rodney stood rooted in place. His two best friends in the world, sometimes he felt his only two friends in the world, both lay quiet and unmoving in adjacent infirmary beds. He hadn't realized until this moment how alike the two men were. One was a doctor whose purpose in life was to save lives; the other a soldier who seemed destined to take them but what the two had in common was their willingness to put their own lives at risk to save others.

"Stupid fools," Rodney muttered, glancing from one to the other. John had practically killed himself getting everyone off that planet and Carson had practically killed himself saving John.

John looked like crap. He'd been in and out of consciousness for the last day, but he was in so much pain, Dr. Cole had been keeping him sedated. Rodney knew when he finally started to spend more time awake than asleep, his friend was not going to enjoy either the catheter or the drain. But at least John had woken up, and barring further complications, God, Rodney hated those words, it looked like in time John would be okay.

But Carson. The stupid jerk sustained a head injury in the crash. A head injury, and he didn't say anything, didn't have anyone check him out before he spent five hours putting Colonel Sheppard back together. Closed head injury. That's what Dr. Cole said. A person can hit their head and think they're fine. Carson had been bleeding into his brain for five hours and no one knew until he collapsed next to John's bed.

Rodney wrapped his arms around his chest and glared at Carson. He hadn't woken up yet. Dr. Cole didn't know if he would. The bleeding had been severe by the time they'd gotten Carson into surgery. He was still intubated, and if it was possible had even more tubes and wires surrounding him than John did. This wasn't supposed to happen to Carson. Carson was the one who always took care of them; he wasn't supposed to be the one lying in that bed.

A muffled groan from John's bed made Rodney startle and he flinched in pain. His ribs still ached, and he knew they would for some time.

"Rodney?" John murmured, squinting over at him.

Rodney shuffled to John's side. "How are you feeling, Colonel?"

"Like road kill," John admitted with a slight chuckle. He shifted slightly and immediately paled.

"Are you okay?" Rodney gripped the handrail of the bed. "Do you need me to get a doctor?"

"S'okay," John said through clenched teeth. "Don't ever lacerate your kidney Rodney; it hurts like a son of a bitch."

"Good advice," Rodney nodded. He fought the urge to begin babbling and instead pursed his lips and bounced on the balls of his feet.

John breathed deeply through his nasal cannula until the pain seemed to pass and his hazel eyes cleared. He looked up at his friend. "What's going on Rodney?"

"What are you talking about?" Rodney hedged.

"Where's Carson?" John asked.

Rodney blew out a long breath and glanced up at the ceiling. John didn't know that Carson had been injured in the crash. Dr. Cole felt it was best to keep that from him until he was stronger. Why did John have to wake up when it was Rodney's turn to babysit? Ronon and Teyla would know how to handle such a question. They'd probably just stare silently at him until he fell back asleep. But John always seemed to know when Rodney was lying or holding something back.

"Rodney." John's voice took on a hard edge. "Where's Carson?"

Rodney sighed resolutely and stepped aside. John looked at him in confusion, uncomprehending. Rodney pointed at the bed across from John's.

"Carson's there," Rodney said quietly.

John gasped in pain as he forced himself up on his elbows. He peered at the figure swathed in tubes, wires and bandages. Sweat popped out on his forehead, and his arms shook with the effort of holding himself up, but he didn't lie back down. He just kept looking in disbelief at their friend.

"Tell me what happened," John said raggedly.

"Carson's head got bounced against the jumper during the crash," Rodney said curtly. "He didn't think it was serious, and when he got one look at you, he ignored it completely. He'd just finished your surgery when he passed out. They operated, but he hasn't woken up yet."

"He's going to be okay," John tore his eyes from Carson's prone figure. He looked desperately at Rodney. "Tell me he's going to be okay."

"I don't know," Rodney stammered. "They don't know."

John flopped limply to his back, his arms giving out from under him. He stared across the wide expanse between the two beds until Dr. Cole finally came and pumped more pain medication into him. Only then did his eyes close. But the look of desperation remained.

Rodney drifted to Carson's side. He slipped his fingers into his friend's hand. "Wake up, Carson," Rodney whispered. "Please, just wake up."

TBC…


	11. Chapter 11

As ever, I'm gratified you continue to read my little offering of whump. Thank you so much to those of you who have left reviews. I do so love seeing your reactions.

Rink Rat: You continue to be the best-est ever.

Chapter 11

John hated pain medication. Not that he loved pain. He didn't. But the medication made him sleep and right now he didn't want to sleep. What he wanted was the man lying in the bed next to him to wake up, and John had a lingering fear that if he went to sleep, the next time he woke up, Carson would be gone. He knew it was ridiculous. Whether he was awake or asleep, he had no control over Carson's condition. But dialing back his pain medication had been his first fight with Dr. Cole. That fight had been something of a draw. She'd agreed to let him monitor his own pain levels with the caveat that she would dose him at the first sign he was stubbornly trying to ignore it.

The second fight had been about letting John get out of bed to sit at Carson's bedside. Dr. Cole had put her foot down; she wouldn't even consider a wheelchair. So John had suggested a compromise: they could simply move his entire bed. She agreed, and the orderlies had relocated John's bed about a foot to the right of Carson's. Propped up on pillows, he rested on his left side and had a bird's eye view of his friend. John chuckled silently to himself when he remembered the exact moment Dr. Cole realized she'd given him exactly what he'd wanted in the first place. She stared at him for a long moment as if unable to believe she'd just been had, and then she just shook her head and walked away. He was fairly certain she was ready to hand him back to Carson.

He smiled at his friend in the next bed. "We're quite the pair, aren't we?"

Carson didn't respond. His face was slack in sleep. A bandage circled the crown of his head. The breathing tube was gone, replaced with a nasal cannula. His hands and arms sported several I.V. lines, and the beeping of his heart monitor sounded in tandem with John's.

"We'll see how you like those hospital gowns now, my friend," John commented dryly. "Along with other things…" he frowned. Fight number three had been over the catheter. That one, John had unequivocally lost. He was fairly certain that had been Dr. Cole's payback for losing fight number two. He hadn't even engaged her in fight number four, over the nasal cannula. He'd simply removed it in a fit of irritation.

"Good morning, Colonel." Teyla's warm voice sounded from the foot of his bed.

"Hi Teyla," John smiled back.

Teyla moved to John's side, bending over to kiss him lightly on the cheek. "It's good to see you awake. How are you feeling?"

"Would you believe me if I said I was fine?" John cocked an eyebrow at Teyla.

"No." She gently squeezed his hand, and then pulled a chair to the foot of his and Carson's beds.

"How am I feeling?" John mused, his eyes wandering back to Carson's still figure. "My back hurts. My side hurts. I have tubes in places I really don't want to talk about. I'm hooked up to just about every monitor known to man, and one of my best friends nearly died saving my life."

"And you nearly died saving ours," Teyla reminded him.

"I think I prefer to be the one sleeping through the hard part," John murmured softly, his eyes still on Carson. "I've never been any good at bedside vigils."

"I think you're doing quite well," Teyla smiled encouragingly.

"I'm not doing anything," John sighed, working one of his I.V. lines between his thumb and forefinger.

"You're here." Teyla settled herself comfortably in her chair.

John gave a small shrug. "I'm kinda stuck here."

"Uh huh." Teyla smiled knowingly at him.

John stared quietly at Carson. This was why he was bad at this sort of thing. He never knew what to say. He shifted slightly; the motion sent pain slicing across his lower back. The pain took his breath away, and he clamped his eyes shut, fighting the dizziness that followed. To his side, a monitor beeped a warning, and he suddenly felt Dr. Cole's hand on his arm.

"Easy Colonel," Dr. Cole said.

John felt the doctor slip the nasal cannula back under his nose, securing it under his chin. "Deep breaths for me, okay?"

John complied, and the lightheadedness began to ease. He felt her fingers slip around his wrist. Finally, the monitor quieted.

"It's time for some pain meds Colonel." Dr. Cole said sternly. "And you're on oxygen for a reason, so please stop removing the cannula."

"I'm fine." John muttered in frustration.

"You're not fine, Colonel Sheppard." Dr. Cole crouched down until she was staring directly into John's eyes. "Not yet. You need rest and you need to let all this equipment do its job. And if you don't stop fighting me on this, I'll move you to the furthest corner of this infirmary and sedate you until it's time to take your stitches out."

Before John could say a word in response, the doctor inserted a syringe into an I.V. port, efficiently injecting the medication. Almost immediately, the edges of his vision grew blurry and the pain eased off. His eyes grew heavy, and he had to fight to keep them open.

"It's okay John." He felt Teyla take his hand. "Just rest, I'll watch over Carson."

He lost the fight, and his eyes slid closed.

"And you." He heard Teyla say softly. And then sleep took him.

The next time John awoke, Teyla was gone. Ronon was kicked back in a chair, and John could have sworn the man was sleeping.

"Hey big guy," John said.

Ronon's eyes flipped open. He sat forward, righting the chair; its front legs hit the floor with a clatter. "Hey," he said.

"How's Carson?" John asked.

"Same." Ronon shrugged.

John smothered a yawn. His back and stomach ached, but the pain was muted. He felt warm and if he'd had the energy, he would have pushed the blanket off of himself, but his body was just too heavy to move. Around another yawn he asked, "How long have I been out?"

"Most of the day." Ronon rested his elbows on his legs.

"It must get pretty boring watching us sleep," John commented with a slight grin.

Ronon grinned back. "Perfect time for a nap."

"I knew it," John chuckled lightly.

"How are you feeling?" Ronon asked.

"Kinda floaty." John blinked sleepily at his friend.

"What'd you do to piss off Dr. Cole?" Ronon asked with a smile.

"Oh Lord, I can only imagine," Carson's weak Scottish brogue responded.

"Carson!" John grinned. "About time you woke up."

"I'll get Dr. Cole," Ronon got up, heading towards the main area of the infirmary.

"What happened?" Carson groaned. He gingerly brought one hand to his forehead.

"Subdural hematoma," John replied. "You got knocked around a bit in the jumper crash. Sorry about that."

"Ow." Carson hissed when his fingers found a particularly tender spot on his temple. "And what did you do to Dr. Cole?"

"Nothing," John pouted innocently. "Why do you think everything is always my fault?"

"Because I know you," Carson replied with a pained sigh.

"Well aren't you grumpy," John sniffed.

Ronon returned with Dr. Cole and Joanne in tow.

"Dr. Beckett," Dr. Cole smiled. "Good to see you back with us."

"Thanks, Dr. Cole. It's good to be back. Hey, Joanne," Carson waved a hand at his favorite nurse.

Joanne grinned at Carson, briefly patting his shoulder before continuing past his bed and stopping at John's. Undoing the wheel locks, she carefully pushed the bed further away from Carson's before drawing the privacy curtain between them.

"Time for a vitals check," she said, pulling a thermometer from her smock.

As Joanne placed the thermometer in his ear, he heard the murmured voices of Carson and Dr. Cole coming from the other side of the curtain. Without comment, Joanne notated his temp in his chart before moving on to take his blood pressure.

"So is Carson going to be okay?" John asked.

"I'm sure that's what Dr. Cole is determining right now," Joanne said, making another notation in his chart. She smiled cheerily at her patient, "But it's a great sign that he's awake and alert."

"And grumpy," John grumped. He watched as Joanne pulled a fresh bag of saline from a cabinet and proceeded to change out one of his I.V. bags. She moved to his cath bag next and he grimaced when whatever she was doing tugged a little too hard on the catheter line.

"Sorry, sorry." Joanne looked at John apologetically. "Didn't mean to hurt you."

John was hoping she was done when she pulled off her latex gloves and tossed them in the waste bin, but then she washed her hands and donned a new pair.

"I need to check your wounds," she explained, hooking a foot around a rolling tray table supplied with antiseptics and gauze and pulling it next to John's bed. Gently, she pulled down his bedcovers and lifted up his gown. John closed his eyes, biting down on his lip as she palpated his abdomen. She peeled back his dressings, and he tried to ignore the spiking pain as she poked and prodded at his incision. Finally, it was over and she re-dressed the wound.

"Okay," Joanne said sympathetically. "Let's look at your back." Carefully, she rolled him to his side.

John panted slightly as pain rocketed across his back and stomach. The entire process was repeated again, and by the time Joanne was done, perspiration dotted his forehead and he was twisting the bedclothes tightly in his fingers.

"All done," Joanne soothed. She readied a hypodermic and shot the contents into John's I.V.

John groaned and then the medication took effect and gratefully he felt the pain slip away.

* * *

Joanne handed John's chart to Dr. Cole. "His temp's a little elevated. The wound on his back is clear, but there's some pus in the drain and the appendectomy incision is slightly red and puffy and extremely sensitive to touch."

"Dammit," Dr. Cole sighed. "Take a culture and I want a full blood panel while you're at it." She scribbled in the chart and handed it back to the nurse.

"How's Dr. Beckett?" Joanne asked.

"He's doing well," Dr. Cole replied. "Let's do a follow up scan later today, but I think we can take him off the critical list." She smiled at the young nurse. "I'm sure he'd appreciate a visit from you."

Joanne smiled. Carson Beckett had become much like an older brother to her in the past few years. He was always a steady and reassuring presence in the infirmary. Even in the worst of situations, Carson had a way of making everything feel better. It had rocked her and she knew it had rocked most of the staff as well, to see Carson collapse. To them, he seemed invincible and this was a disturbing reminder that none of them were.

She rounded the corner to find the privacy curtain gone. Colonel Sheppard was asleep. Carson had slightly raised the head of his bed and was observing his friend. Joanne had no doubt he was trying to study the readings on John's monitors. She approached Carson's bed and he immediately held a hand out.

"Let me see it Joanne," he said firmly.

"Dr. Cole will kill me," Joanne hesitated.

"I'll protect you," Carson's blue eyes twinkled for a second, and then seriousness returned. "Please, Joanne."

Reluctantly, she handed John's chart to Carson. He flipped through it, closed his eyes for a moment and then handed the chart back to Joanne.

"You're drawing blood and cultures now?" Carson glanced at his sleeping friend in concern.

At Joanne's nod, he said, "Please let me know the results."

"I will on one condition," Joanne hit Carson's bed controls, lowering the bed back down. "That you get some rest."

Carson nodded. He closed his eyes, and when his breathing had evened out, Joanne moved to John's bed. He was so doped up, he barely even moved during the blood draw. He moaned once when she took the culture of his incision, but he didn't wake.

Gently, Joanne tucked the covers around the Colonel's shoulders. She put her hand on his forehead. He was definitely warm. She sighed, hurriedly walking towards the lab. They needed to stop this infection in its tracks. Colonel Sheppard was a good man and Atlantis couldn't afford to lose him.

TBC…

**A/N: And the whump continues….hopefully you're still enjoying it. I see this going one of two ways. I can draw this to a close in another few chapters, or I can keep it going and continue to whump the heck out of our boy. You choose--your wish is my command.**


	12. Chapter 12

Thank you so much for all your input about whether or not to continue the story. I'm glad you're enjoying it enough to still want more! I have some ideas about how to move the story forward, so as long as you're willing to read it, I'll keep writing!

Bless you, Rink Rat, for the beta!

Chapter 12

Carson sighed and rolled over. He was one of those people who had the ability to sleep anywhere. It was how he had made it through med school and internships and residencies. But even he had to admit that sleeping in a hospital bed was a contradiction in terms. If he rolled one way, he got pinched by the I.V. in his hand. If he moved the other way, he got pinched by the one in the crook of his arm. The pulse ox clip, the blood pressure cuff, the heart monitor leads and wires, they all made him feel clumsy, their bulk becoming some weird extension of his own body. And then there were the hourly visits by the nursing staff, waking him up to make sure he was still lucid, flashing their penlights in his eyes to check his pupil responses. As a doctor, he knew the monitoring was necessary, and yet he would have killed for just one night of uninterrupted sleep.

As if reading his mind, John impudently grinned from the next bed and said, "Pain in the ass, isn't it?"

Carson glanced at his friend, noting the too bright eyes and slightly flushed face. It had been two days since Carson had woken up and taken a look at John's chart. And in those two days, while Carson was getting better, John wasn't. His fever hung on, indicating an internal struggle between infection and health.

"Oh come on," John chuckled. "Admit it. You want nothing more right now than to bust out of that bed and go back to your own."

"You don't have to take quite so much pleasure in my discomfort Colonel," Carson said reproachfully.

"I would never," John denied, wide eyed and innocent. "I'm just saying, maybe you'll have a little more sympathy for your patients from now on."

"Speaking of patients," Carson stared critically at the wounded colonel. "How's your pain this morning?"

"I think you're forgetting your place Mr. Head Trauma," John smirked. "You're not my doctor at the moment, just another lowly patient stuck in the infirmary."

"Fine." Carson groaned. "You're right. It sucks to be here. It sucks to be hooked up to all these monitors. It sucks to be stuck in this bed. It sucks to have Hammer Hands Hannah do your blood draws and insert your I.V.'s. Okay? It sucks."

John gave a self satisfied smile.

"It is not a new discovery for me, Colonel Sheppard, that being in the hospital sucks," Carson continued. "You think I enjoy making yours and other patients' lives miserable? Because I don't. But it's a necessary evil with your best interests at heart. So please stop avoiding the question and just tell me how you're feeling this morning."

John rolled his eyes in disgust. "You're no fun Carson. And no, I'm not going to tell you how I'm feeling. They won't let me look at any mission reports, so I'm not going to let you play doctor with me." He stared stubbornly at the ceiling.

"Good Lord," Carson moaned, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration. "You are the worst patient I've ever treated."

"And you're no better Dr. Beckett." Carson opened his eyes to find Dr. Cole smiling down at him. She opened his chart and reviewed it. "You're supposed to be resting, not diagnosing Colonel Sheppard."

"That's what I told him," John said smugly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Carson pointedly ignored John's teasing, focusing instead on Dr. Cole as she conducted a quick examination.

"You're healing quite nicely Dr. Beckett," Dr. Cole said as she put her penlight back in her pocket. "Your brain shows no further sign of swelling or bleeding. We'll do one more comparison scan tomorrow morning; if that checks out fine, I see no reason we can't release you to your quarters tomorrow." She hooked his chart on the end of his bed and moved on to John.

"So, how are you feeling this morning Colonel?" Dr. Cole sat down on the stool next to his bed.

"Just fine and dandy Dr. Cole," John smiled charmingly. "When do I get to go back to my quarters?"

Dr. Cole flipped open John's chart. "I see your temp's still stubbornly hanging at 100." She set the chart aside and exposed John's midsection. She began palpating his abdomen with her fingers.

Carson saw John's face tense. He recognized that look. Dr. Cole had touched a nerve. Carson waited impatiently for Dr. Cole to finish her examination. He couldn't shake the lingering sense that he'd missed something. He'd been injured, not at the top of his game when he'd been treating John. What if he'd made a mistake?

But the Atlantis scanners weren't showing he'd missed anything. And if John wasn't getting any better, he was at least holding his own. Given time, the antibiotics should fight off the infection. John had barely been recovered from the first infection when he'd gone gallivanting after the missing Atlantians. His body had still been weak, and then he'd re-exposed his wound to infection during the rescue. It hadn't surprised anyone when the infection had returned.

And yet, there was still this niggling doubt. Carson wanted more than anything to examine John himself, to pinpoint what spot in John's belly was so tender that it made John want to jump out of his skin.

"Carson. Carson!"

Carson snapped out of his reverie. Dr. Cole had moved on to the next patient in her rounds and John was staring at him impatiently. Without thinking, Carson swept aside his bedcovers, swinging his legs over the side.

"What are you doing?" John asked in surprise. He added impishly, "I don't think Dr. Cole would approve."

"Of course she would," Carson gripped his I.V. pole and pulled himself to his feet. "I'm supposed to get up and walk around."

"By yourself?" John arched an eyebrow at Carson. "Because you know, you've always yelled…er…told me that I'm not supposed to walk without a buddy."

"Shut up Colonel." Carson swayed slightly as a wave of dizziness passed over him. He took a moment to let it pass and then shuffled his way to John's bed.

"What are you doing Carson?" John asked suspiciously.

Carson pulled down John's bedcovers and lifted up his gown. His fingers hovered over John's midsection and he looked seriously at his friend. "You need to tell me when I hit something particularly tender. No covering, no holding back. You understand?"

"Dr. Cole just did this." John complained. "I'm really over you guys poking and prodding me every five minutes."

Methodically, Carson began pressing on John's stomach, moving slowly from one side to the other. John pursed his lips and stared at the ceiling. Carson frowned. The rigidity was barely perceptible, but it was definitely there. He pressed down more firmly and John suddenly gasped, his face going white.

"Stop it Carson," John panted. He batted weakly at Carson's hands.

"Sorry lad," Carson soothed. He gently patted John's shoulder before hitting the nurse call button.

Carson looked up as Joanne rounded the corner.

"Dr. Beckett," Joanne glared at her boss. "What are you doing out of bed?"

"I need you to bring me the ultrasound dear," Carson leaned heavily against his I.V. pole.

"Dr. Beckett," Joanne said worriedly. "I really think you should lie down."

"Joanne, Luv," Carson looked gravely at the nurse. "Please."

Unhappily Joanne walked to another area of the infirmary, finally returning with the machine in tow. "You think this will show something the scanner missed?" she asked, puzzled.

"Maybe," Carson said thoughtfully. As Joanne readied John's midsection for the exam, he caught John's eye. "This might hurt a wee bit Colonel."

"What else is new?" John asked resignedly. He closed his eyes, flinching as Carson pressed the wand to the tender area he'd identified in his earlier examination.

Carson manipulated the ultrasound wand over John's stomach, pressing it hard against John's skin. He pressed harder, and John squirmed underneath him, barely suppressing a cry of pain. "Hang on son," Carson murmured, digging the wand into John's abdomen. Finally, he saw what he was looking for. He lifted the wand.

"I'll be damned," Joanne looked at Carson, her eyes wide. "How did the Atlantis scanner miss that?"

"What?" John panted, curling protectively around his side.

Carson pointed at a pinprick on the monitor. "That." He turned to Joanne. "Please go get Dr. Cole for me."

As Joanne walked away, Carson gently put his hand on John's arm. "I'm afraid we missed something in your belly when we were cleaning it out the first time. I didn't see it and the scanner didn't pick it up, but I believe it's the cause of that pesky infection."

"What did you find Dr. Beckett?" Dr. Cole quickly walked to his side. He pointed to the ultrasound and she whistled when she looked at it. "Nice work Doctor. What made you think to use the ultrasound?"

Carson shrugged his shoulders. "Just something in the way John reacted when you were examining him earlier, got me thinking that the scanner had to have missed something. I'm going to bet you that when you pull that out, it's going to be something organic, something the scanner wouldn't have picked up as being foreign material to the body."

"Oh crap," John moaned, realization dawning.

"Sorry lad," Carson patted John's shoulder sympathetically. "I'm afraid we're going to have to operate one more time."

"This sucks." John glowered.

"I can't argue with you there," Carson agreed with a smile.

"Sorry Colonel Sheppard, but this should make you feel a whole lot better," Dr. Cole said. She glanced over at Joanne. "Can you please get the Colonel prepped for surgery? I'll alert the O.R. that we're coming. And you," she said to Carson with a smile. "Get back in bed."

"Yes Doctor," Carson responded contritely.

"Carson." John glanced over at his friend.

"Yes Colonel?" Carson said.

"Thank you," John said softly.

"You're welcome," Carson smiled.

Joanne approached John's bed, a syringe in hand. "Colonel, I'm going to give you something to help you relax, okay?" She injected the contents into his I.V.

"I'll be here when you wake up son," Carson said as John's eyelids began to flutter.

"'Kay, Carson," John slurred, his eyes bleary.

"We'll take good care of him Carson," Joanne squeezed Carson's shoulder. "And I'll call Dr. Weir and let her know what's going on."

Carson nodded, slowly making his way back to his bed. He climbed in, pulling the covers up over his legs. Soon the orderlies arrived to move John to the O.R. He watched until John's bed disappeared around the corner. And then he was alone.

Carson sank back against his pillows and watched the minutes tick away.

TBC…


	13. Chapter 13

Sorry for the longer wait with this one. Real life kind of took over.

Thank you for continuing to read, and thank you so much for leaving reviews.

As always Rink Rat, you rock.

Chapter 13

Elizabeth sat cross legged at the foot of Carson's bed, worrying a loose thread from his blanket between her thumb and forefinger.

"He'll be all right dear," Carson assured her.

"It feels like he's been in surgery for hours." Elizabeth sighed. "Even though I know," she looked at her watch, "it's only been exactly one hour and thirty two minutes."

"And how many seconds?" Carson lightly teased.

"Fifteen," Elizabeth admitted sheepishly. "I'm not very good at waiting, am I?"

"I have to say Elizabeth," Carson lifted his hands, flexing his fingers. "Neither am I. It's not easy sitting on the sidelines."

"Believe me, I know," Elizabeth said softly, glancing reflexively at her watch. Catching herself, she blushed.

"One hour and thirty three minutes?" Carson's blue eyes twinkled kindly.

"And fifteen seconds," Elizabeth murmured with a small grin. She dropped her hands to her lap and once again attacked the loose thread with her fingers. "How did this happen, Carson?"

"I missed something the first time." Carson said bluntly, his blue eyes full of regret.

"Carson, this is not your fault." Elizabeth stared steadily at the doctor.

"Colonel Sheppard's care was my responsibility," Carson disagreed stubbornly. He rubbed tiredly at his forehead. "If I had collapsed in the middle of John's surgery…"

"But you didn't Carson." Elizabeth interjected.

"I'm a doctor. I know better than anyone not to take a head wound lightly," Carson continued, his voice full of self reproach. "I don't know what I was thinking."

"I'm sure you were thinking about saving John's life," Elizabeth reminded him softly.

Carson nodded, though he looked far from convinced as to the truth of Elizabeth's words. He cleared his throat and changed the subject. "I'm surprised Ronon, Teyla and Rodney aren't here."

"They were going to come down, but I convinced them it was pointless for them to sit here aimlessly for however many hours the surgery took. So Ronon and Teyla are sparring, and Rodney is running an experiment. They've asked me to notify them as soon as John's out of surgery." Elizabeth explained.

Carson suddenly laughed.

"What?" Elizabeth asked, Carson's laughter was infectious and she found herself grinning.

"Do you remember when I almost killed Colonel Sheppard and General O'Neill with that drone?" Carson shook his head. "I thought Colonel Sheppard was going to kill me when he found out it was me."

"And then he sat down in the chair and we realized he had the strongest permutation of the Ancient gene we'd ever seen." Elizabeth smiled. "I don't think anyone was more shocked than he was." She glanced up at Carson. "It seems so long ago, doesn't it?"

"A lot has certainly happened since then," Carson agreed. He chuckled again. "Getting bitten by an iratus bug."

"Shot with Wraith stunners." Elizabeth joined in.

"Turning into a bug." Carson added.

"Not much tops that." Elizabeth grinned.

"How does one man have such a penchant for getting into trouble?" Carson mused.

"It's a heck of a talent." Elizabeth commented.

"Lord, do you think it's genetic?" Carson arched an eyebrow at Elizabeth.

"Oh, his poor mother," Elizabeth chortled.

"Just wait until he has kids of his own," Carson added with a sly smile.

Elizabeth found herself smiling warmly at the thought of John Sheppard holding his little girl or boy in his arms. She wondered if the child would have his hazel eyes and dark hair. She realized she'd fallen completely silent and blushed. She blushed even more deeply when she found Carson studying her thoughtfully.

She was saved from embarrassing herself any further by the approach of Dr. Cole. She looked anxiously at Carson and he reached down and took her hand in his, squeezing it tightly.

"Colonel Sheppard did very well," Dr. Cole smiled. She held up a small specimen jar and lightly shook it. "This little bugger here was the problem."

Carson took the jar from Dr. Cole and studied it. "What is this?"

"A very small piece of bone," Dr. Cole answered. "The best we can figure is that it was attached to the shrapnel that pierced Colonel Sheppard's back and it worked its way into the abdominal cavity. It was definitely the source of the infection. Now that we've removed it and cleaned out the infection, we should see a rapid improvement in the Colonel's condition." She paused and then briefly touched Carson's arm. "This wasn't your fault Dr. Beckett. Anyone would have missed this. Our scanners certainly did."

Carson nodded, letting out a small sigh.

"Thank you Dr. Cole," Elizabeth unwound her legs and climbed from the bed. "When can we see him?"

"We'll be bringing him right out." Dr. Cole assured her. "Colonel Sheppard doesn't react well to the after effects of anesthesia, so if you want to come back after we've got him settled, I can notify you."

"I'm not going anywhere," Elizabeth said quickly.

"Okay," Dr. Cole shared a look with Carson. "Give us five minutes."

Elizabeth nodded and then tapped her earpiece, alerting John's three best friends that he was doing fine and she would let them know when they could visit. She folded her hands behind her back and found herself pacing impatiently.

"Elizabeth." Carson reached out and touched Elizabeth's arm, stopping her in her tracks. "It's going to be okay."

But when John's gurney finally appeared from around the corner and Joanne supervised his transfer back to his bed, Elizabeth suddenly wasn't so sure. Days of illness had turned John's slender frame gaunt. His face was wan and etched with pain. He was awake, but he stared dully into space and she wondered if he even knew she was there. She was overwhelmed by the sheer number of tubes and wires that Joanne was manipulating at his bedside. John moaned softly as Joanne propped him on his side, supporting his body with a mound of pillows.

As if sensing her distress, Carson murmured, "Easy Luv. Just give him some time."

Elizabeth swallowed hard and clenched her hands into fists. She approached John's bed and gently squeezed his hand. His fingers twitched and then he looked up at her and smiled. It was a weak smile, but it reached his eyes, and Elizabeth relaxed. She smiled back.

"Hey Liz..beth," John mumbled.

"Hey sleepyhead." Elizabeth glanced up at Joanne. "Can I sit with him?"

"Of course," the pretty nurse said. "Colonel Sheppard tends to get nauseas immediately following surgery." She pointed to a plastic basin on the bedside table. "Can you give that to him when he needs it?"

"Of course," Elizabeth said. She pulled a chair closer to John's bed and eased herself into it.

"You don't have to stay," John murmured. He closed his eyes, his body tensing.

"You're right, I don't have to," Elizabeth said softly. "You feel sick?"

"Mmhmm," John grunted, his eyes still shut.

Elizabeth took John's hand. "You can squeeze my hand when it gets bad John," she said. She placed the plastic basin on the bed. "And if you need the basin, it's right here."

Immediately, John's fingers wrapped around Elizabeth's. After several long moments, he relaxed and looked up at her.

"How's Carson?" he asked.

"I'm just fine lad," Carson responded. "Are you in any pain?"

"Mmm..it's okay," John sighed.

His eyes fell shut and his breathing evened out. Elizabeth thought he'd fallen asleep, and then his body tensed again. This time he couldn't control it, and he gripped her hand tightly as he helplessly retched into the basin.

Joanne placed a cup of ice on the bedside table and handed Elizabeth a damp cloth. She then exchanged the used emesis basin for a clean one. Gently, Elizabeth wiped John's face with the cloth.

"I won't hold it against you if you bail," John breathed raggedly.

"Not a chance," Elizabeth said. She slid an ice chip into his mouth.

"So, what's been going on?" John bit down hard on the ice chip as another bout of nausea passed over him.

"Well, let's see," Elizabeth said lightly, knowing John needed something to take his mind off the nausea. "The Botany Dept. is very excited about a new plant they've found."

"Sounds…thrilling," John rolled his eyes. Through clenched teeth, he said, "What else?"

"SGA-3 found some ruins on M66 P39 that Rodney is chomping at the bit to go take a look at. That more exciting?" Elizabeth smiled.

"When do we leave?" John arched an eyebrow at Elizabeth.

Suddenly, John paled. Elizabeth moved the basin under his chin just before he violently retched. He shivered, his body trembling. Once again at the ready, Joanne took the used basin and replaced it with a clean one. Elizabeth softly ran the damp cloth across John's lips.

"Here," Joanne slid beside Elizabeth and placed a cup of water with a straw in it under John's mouth. "You can clean your mouth out with this. Just sip and then spit into the basin."

As John weakly complied, Elizabeth grabbed an extra blanket and covered John with it.

After checking several of the monitors, Joanne smiled, gently patting John's shoulder. "You're doing fine Colonel. Dr. Cole left an order for Ativan if the nausea persisted, so I'm just going to get it and you'll be feeling better in a jiffy."

John nodded. "What else?" He asked as Elizabeth sat back down.

"Self evaluations are due next week and performance evaluations three weeks after that." Elizabeth said.

"Boring," John griped.

"Well, you'll have plenty of time to get them done this year," Elizabeth grinned.

"Exceeds standards, every one," John smirked. "Done."

"We've had this discussion before," Elizabeth said dryly. "You can't give everyone an exceeds standards."

John's answer was cut short by another bout of vomiting. As Elizabeth cleaned him up, Joanne returned with the syringe of medication.

"Okay Sir," Joanne inserted the needle into the I.V. port. "This is going to make you sleepy. When you wake up, the worst should be over."

John nodded, blinking heavily as the medication worked its way through his system.

"Go to sleep John," Elizabeth said quietly.

"Anything…to not talk about…eval..uations…" John drifted into sleep.

Elizabeth gently cupped the palm of her hand on his cheek, noting with relief that he no longer seemed as warm.

"Your bedside manner has improved, Dr. Weir," Carson whispered.

"I've had too much practice," Elizabeth noted softly.

"I have to take Carson for another scan," Joanne said. "If you need anything while we're gone, hit the call button, okay Dr. Weir? Colonel Sheppard should sleep for a while."

"Thanks Joanne," Elizabeth said, reaching up to grip Joanne's hand, "for taking care of both of them."

"Your welcome Dr. Weir," Joanne smiled warmly. "Colonel Sheppard and Dr. Beckett are important to a lot of us."

Left alone, Elizabeth leaned back in her chair and watched John sleep. Her thoughts strayed and she found herself wondering if John would ever be a father. Inexplicably she found herself saddened by the idea that he wouldn't be. Blushing again, she tapped her radio.

"Teyla?"

"Yes, Dr. Weir?" Teyla responded.

"Could you sit with John for a while? I have some matters I have to attend to."

"I'm on my way Elizabeth."

Shoving her hands into her pockets, she paced until Teyla arrived several minutes later.

"Everything all right?" Teyla asked.

"John should sleep for a while," Elizabeth said. "Joanne took Carson for another scan, but I'm sure they'll be back soon."

"I meant with you," Teyla said softly.

"Of course," Elizabeth forced a laugh. "I'll check back later."

Elizabeth could swear she felt Teyla's eyes burning into her back as she retreated from the infirmary. She just needed to clear her head. And then she'd stop picturing John swinging a child in his arms and she'd stop feeling a strange yearning in the pit of her stomach. She strode quickly through the halls of Atlantis until she reached her balcony. Throwing open the doors, she gratefully breathed in the fresh air. She gazed across the sea and banished thoughts of John, children and family from her mind.

TBC…


	14. Chapter 14

Wow, I am so sorry it's been so long since I've posted an update. Real life has not been kind of late, and I'm afraid it chased away my muse. I am cautiously optimistic that my muse has returned even if RL is still a pain in the you know where….

As always, thank you for reviewing. Reviews truly are such a wonderful gift to receive.

Chapter Fourteen

John set his tray of food and his data pad on the table and eased himself into the plastic chair. It was early and the cafeteria was mostly empty. Except for a table full of boyish faced Marines. John shook his head. He knew he was getting older when the new recruits seemed to get younger and younger each year. John dug into his oatmeal and continued reading the mission briefing that had those young Marines out of bed so early in the morning.

Radek Zelenka was heading a science team exploring Ancient ruins on M56 P37. While they had the blessings of the local village leader, a small but vocal group of religious zealots objected to the 'Lantian exploration and had taken to harassing the science team as they conducted their research. The Marines were accompanying Zelenka's team in order to establish a perimeter and keep the zealots outside of it.

Raucous guffaws of laughter from the table of young Marines drew John's attention and he looked over to see one of the boys (he could only call him a boy—he looked barely eighteen) blushing wildly. One glance at the entrance to the cafeteria explained it all and John nodded towards the pretty nurse who was the cause of the commotion at the other table. John smiled to himself. It wasn't surprising Nurse Joanne Brubeck had inspired a crush in one of the Marines. He suspected, however, that Joanne's inclination towards a certain doctor would leave the young Marine's feelings unrequited.

"Colonel Sheppard, do you mind if I join you?" Joanne smiled prettily. Her red hair, normally tied up in bun while on duty in the infirmary, cascaded in waves down her back.

"Not at all," John smiled back, and with a wave of his hand indicated she should take the seat across from him.

He stared at her curiously as she set her tray of oatmeal, toast and juice down on the table. Joanne had been one of his primary nurses while he was in the infirmary, but this was the first time their paths had crossed outside the infirmary walls.

"Is there something I can do for you?" he asked.

She carefully stirred brown sugar into her oatmeal and shyly glanced over at the Colonel.

"Dr. Beckett's birthday is next week, and some of the nurses would like to throw him a surprise party. You and your team are his best friends, so of course we'd like you to be there," Joanne explained.

"Of course we'll be there," John nodded enthusiastically. "Just tell us where and when."

The table of young Marines began to disperse, and John saw the boy with the crush glance wistfully in Joanne's direction. Oblivious, Joanne daintily took a bite of toast, washing it down with juice.

"We're thinking next Sunday," Joanne said. "Is there any possibility we can arrange to get a cake, maybe some ice cream? Also, a few of the girls have put together some playlists on their ipods. Do you know if anyone has a docking station we could borrow?"

"I'll talk to Elizabeth about a special delivery from earth. How's about I see if we can get some decorations while we're at it: A few streamers, kazoos, balloons…and birthday hats," John chuckled at the thought of Carson attempting to blow out trick birthday candles while wearing the silliest birthday hat he could find. "As for the docking station, I'm sure McKay can rig up something." Along with a camera, John thought. This definitely needed to be recorded for posterity….and future merciless teasing.

"You're the best, Colonel Sheppard," Joanne beamed, her green eyes sparkling.

"It was your idea," John acknowledged. "We would have just dragged Carson down for some movies and popcorn. But this is a real party. I like it."

Joanne blushed, digging into her oatmeal.

"So…you and Carson…" John arched an eyebrow at the petit nurse.

"What?" Joanne startled, nearly dropping her spoon. "No. There is no." She flushed bright red. "We're friends. I mean, he's like an older brother, really."

"Uh huh, okay." John suppressed a laugh.

"Um. I should go." Joanne grabbed her tray, nearly forgetting to deposit it in the bussing area in her frantic bolt from the cafeteria.

"Huh," Rodney plopped his breakfast tray on the table and sat down in the seat Joanne had just vacated. "That's a first. Women don't usually run away from you, Sheppard. What'd you do to her?"

"I didn't do anything to her," John protested mildly. "I just merely suggested there might be something going on between her and Carson."

"Joanne and Carson?" Rodney's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really?" He glanced towards the exit door. "He's never said anything. How do you know?"

"She's throwing him a surprise party for his birthday." John said smugly.

"Well that's hardly evidence," Rodney snorted. "Wait, when's Carson's birthday?"

"Next week," John glared at the scientist. "Don't tell me you forgot. Again."

"I'm sure I set myself a reminder," Rodney fiddled with his data pad. "See? There. If you'd asked me tomorrow, I would have known." He set the data pad back down on the table in triumph.

John rolled his eyes. "And let's just say I had plenty of time to witness Joanne and Carson together while I was in the infirmary. I think there are…sparks."

Rodney snorted again. "Since when did you become a matchmaker? Besides, you were delirious half the time and drugged up the other. You're not exactly a reliable witness." Rodney dove into the food on his plate.

"Fine." John snagged his tray and got up. "I have to go see Elizabeth about a party. Clear your schedule next Sunday and bring an ipod docking station with you. Joanne wants to have music."

"Music?" Rodney asked distractedly, his attention already back on the file he'd been reading on his data pad.

"Yeah," John glared in irritation at the scientist. "Music. You know. For dancing? Just bring the docking station, or I won't let you into the party."

"Yeah, whatever." Rodney muttered, tapping excitedly on the data pad.

"No party, no cake, no ice cream," John reminded him.

"Cake and ice cream?" Rodney looked up. "When is this party again?"

John held back a groan as he walked away from the table. He handed his tray to one of the Marines who'd pulled kitchen duty. Leave it to Rodney Mckay to be more interested in cake than one of his best friend's birthdays. The more John thought about it, the more he liked the idea of a huge birthday bash for Carson. As CMO, Carson touched every life on the Atlantis expedition. It was time they returned the favor. They were going to throw Carson a surprise party, and everyone on Atlantis was invited.

John paused in mid step. They were going to need a really big cake.

* * *

Carson whistled to himself as he finished the last notation in Frederick Bales' chart. The archaeologist had been winged by a rock thrown by a local villager none too happy with the attention his team was giving the ancient ruins on M56 P37, and while the bruise had been deep, Bales would heal just fine.

At the moment, the infirmary was empty of patients and other than a few routine physicals, including Colonel Sheppard's, Carson's day was relatively light. That meant he could get some time in the lab. He rubbed his hands together with pleasure at the thought.

He looked up and saw Joanne enter the infirmary. She was twisting her hair into a bun on the top of her head, securing it with a ton of bobby pins that seemed to materialize out of thin air. She looked up and their eyes met across the infirmary floor. To Carson's puzzlement, Joanne froze, her hands locked on the bobby pin she'd been affixing to her hair. She looked to Carson much like a startled doe eyed deer. To his amazement, Joanne blushed a deep shade of red before shoving the last bobby pin into her hair and disappearing into another area of the infirmary. He shook his head and frowned. The ways of women were mysterious indeed. At the same time, the image of her long lush hair twisting through her delicate hands wouldn't quite leave his mind…

"Hey Doc."

John's voice broke into his thoughts and Carson flushed, embarrassment flooding through him, as if he were a young boy again and he'd just been caught with his hands in the cookie jar. He looked up at the colonel, forcing his mind to settle, and he could swear the man was smirking.

"Your appointment's not until…" Carson checked his data pad. "Ten. You're early."

"I was hoping we could just get this over with," John shrugged apologetically. "I kind of have a lot on my plate today."

"Fine," Carson sighed, looking wistfully in the direction of his lab. He'd hoped to get a few hours of uninterrupted lab time in before his patients began arriving for their physicals. "There's a pair of scrubs on the bed in Exam 1. Go change and I'll be in shortly."

"Thanks, Doc," John nodded. He shuffled towards the cubicle, disappearing around the corner.

Carson tapped his earpiece, calling Joanne on the channel reserved for the infirmary. "Joanne luv, can you please do a vitals check and draw some labs on Colonel Sheppard? He's in Exam 1."

At her acknowledgment, he pulled on his lab coat and grabbed his stethoscope from where it lay curled on top of a filing cabinet, dropping it into his coat pocket.

By the time Carson joined John in the exam room, Joanne already had their patient's arm prepped for the blood draws. Much to Carson's surprise, he saw her hands fumble just as she pushed the needle into a vein.

"Ouch!" John yelped, wincing at the sharp stick.

"Oh my God," Joanne said in horror. "I'm so sorry, Colonel Sheppard." She blushed to the very roots of her auburn hair. She bit her lip and focused solely on drawing the blood and pulling the needle from John's arm without inflicting further pain.

Carson stared suspiciously at his nurse and Colonel Sheppard. He'd never seen Joanne so flustered. And yet here she was, all thumbs with a certain handsome colonel. They'd certainly spent plenty of time alone while he was recovering from his latest medical crisis. And really why wouldn't a beautiful, desirable, woman like Joanne be attracted to the handsome military commander? How many nurses had fallen for the wounded men they tended? Really, at this point it was cliché.

"All done, Colonel." Joanne flushed again as she pressed a cotton ball to the crook of John's elbow and raised his arm. "I'll get these to the lab, Dr. Beckett."

Carson watched as his nurse fled from the exam room. He pushed down the roiling emotions in the pit of his stomach. Joanne was like a sister. He knew she thought of him as an older brother. And they worked together. So what was he getting so het up about? She wasn't the first and she wouldn't be the last to fall for Colonel Sheppard.

"You okay, Doc?" John asked, eyeing his doctor carefully.

"Just fine, Colonel Sheppard." Carson quickly perused the chart Joanne had started. BP, pulse rate and temp were all within normal parameters. He set the chart aside and pulled his stethoscope from his pocket, forcing all other thoughts than examining his patient from his mind. "Let's have a listen, shall we?"

Patiently, John submitted to Carson's exam, not even wincing as the doctor probed the scars on his side and back. It had been a month since John had crashed the jumper in the gate room, and he was completely healed.

"Looks good, Colonel Sheppard." Carson scribbled a note in John's chart. Closing it, he said, "You're returned to full duty."

"Thanks Doc," John smiled in relief.

"And Colonel?" Carson looked gravely at his friend.

"Yeah Doc?" John looked up as he hopped off the table.

"Don't hurt her."

If Carson had looked back as he swept hurriedly out of the exam room, he would have seen John's delighted grin.

Tbc…


	15. Chapter 15

Thank you for reading and reviewing! And Rink Rat, as always, thanks for the beta!

Chapter Fifteen

John rested his forearms on his P-90 and rocked back on his heels. Before him, lush green grass spread out as far as the eye could see. Off to the side, he could hear the rushing water of the river that snaked through this valley, ending in a large lake just barely visible in the distance. Five months ago, Atlantis had helped the Nadrians relocate to this world after their own had been culled. The dispirited group of refugees had flourished in that time, and where there had once just been empty prairie, there now stood a thriving community. A large village, complete with a town meeting hall and a school, was set at the center of the valley, well out of reach of the river's flood plain. Villagers took turns tending to large fields of crops while animals akin to horses and cows dotted the rest of the plains.

Elizabeth had been the one to suggest that John take his team and check up on the Nadrians' progress. He'd humored her obvious attempt to make his first foray back into the field an easy one. The Nadrians were good people and had proven they were a hardy people as well. The most excitement John expected out of their visit was the dinner that night being thrown in the 'Lantians' honor. But the biggest reason John hadn't fought Elizabeth over the soft ball she'd lobbed at him was the simple fact that when it came down to it, the survival of the Nadrian people was a very real victory in this galaxy's war with the Wraith, and it was one to be celebrated. There was no guarantee the Wraith wouldn't find The Nadrians on P23 X58, but the Stargate was located two valleys over and the planet itself was fairly empty of human populations. The planet shouldn't attract the attention of the Wraith for some time to come.

"Hey."

John turned at the sound of Ronon's deep rumbling voice.

"Hey," John replied, turning his gaze back to the grasslands.

The big man sauntered over, settling next to John and quietly observing the view.

"It's pretty here." John commented.

"Pretty boring, you mean," Rodney huffed up next to them. "I can't believe Zelenka gets to explore ancient ruins and I get stuck with this; grass and cows." Rodney wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"I'll be sure to tell the kitchen not to give you any of the fresh vegetables or meat that Teyla is currently securing for us with a trade agreement, since you don't think this mission matters," John said dryly.

"What?" Rodney's eyes popped open. "I didn't say it didn't matter, Sheppard. But you have to admit, this mission is a sore misuse of my skills. It's not like there's any technology here…ow!" Rodney swatted his neck. "What was that? Is that a mosquito? Dammit Sheppard, if I get malaria I will never forgive you."

John held back a laugh. "You're not going to get malaria, Rodney. Maybe the Pegasus version of malaria..."

"Oh thanks," Rodney snapped, rubbing at his neck. "I think it's going numb. What if it's poisonous? Are my lips turning blue? I'm probably allergic, just seconds away from anaphylactic shock."

"Relax, Rodney. Here, let me see." John reached over, gently pushing Rodney's neck to the side to expose the bug bite on his neck. He winced at the angry red welt. "Ouch," he murmured. "Does it hurt?"

"Yes, Sheppard. It hurts!" Rodney answered incredulously as he worried the bug bite with his fingers.

"Come on," John grabbed Rodney's elbow, steering him back towards the village. "We should have Ladria take a look at it."

"No way," Rodney protested. "Carson and his voodoo science are bad enough. You're not giving me over to a backwoods village healer whose idea of medication is a stout cup of tea."

"If the bugs are indigenous to this planet, Rodney," John explained as he continued to direct Rodney towards a building at the center of town, "then a local healer is the best place to take you."

"He's right, Rodney," Ronon rumbled. "Stop whining. It's just a bug bite."

"I'll be sure to remind myself it was just a bug bite when neurotoxins paralyze my respiratory functions and I asphyxiate," Rodney spluttered.

"I'm going to find Teyla," Ronon shrugged, heading towards the town meeting hall opposite the healing center.

John nodded, moving Rodney up the short flight of stairs leading into the village's version of a hospital. They spilled inside.

"For God's sake, just take me to Carson," Rodney loudly protested, trying to shove past John and exit the building.

A petite dark haired woman slowly rose from her seat at a small table near the door and stared curiously at the two men. She carefully smoothed her white smock. "Can I help you?"

"No," Rodney jerked his arm away from John.

"Rodney," John glared at his friend. Satisfied Rodney wasn't going to bolt, John turned towards the woman and offered a disarming smile. "Sorry to barge in on you, but my friend here has been bitten by a bug and I was hoping Ladria could look at it."

The woman seemed captured by John's hazel eyes. She blushed furiously. Rodney groaned with annoyance.

"If you'll take a seat over there," she finally managed to say, pointing to an empty bed, "I'll let Ladria know you're waiting."

"Thank you," John smiled again, causing the woman to turn an even deeper shade of pink. She turned and walked away, disappearing through a door at the back.

"Unbelievable," Rodney stared at John in disgust as he took a seat on an empty bed. "Does the Captain Kirk routine ever get old for you?"

John smiled, turning away from Rodney to survey the small ward. There were six beds. Other than Rodney, there was only one other patient. A boy, John guessed he was about thirteen, was propped up in the last bed. Even from a distance John could tell the boy was fevered. A light sheen of sweat glistened on the boy's forehead and his blond curly locks clung to his pale face. The boy was watching them curiously and John strolled over to his side.

"Hey," John smiled and waved. "I'm John. What's your name?"

"I'm Erol." The boy replied.

"What happened there?" John pointed to Erol's heavily bandaged left leg.

"Shirrel threw me," Erol bit his lip as a shudder passed over his small frame.

John gently put a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. "You broke it?"

"Ladria says the bone snapped clean in two," Erol closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the pain seemed to have passed. He caught John's eye and said, almost proudly, "Went through the skin, too."

"I told you that Samech was too big for you to ride," a young woman, her blonde locks as curly as the boy's, said reproachfully. She approached John and stood up on tiptoe to offer a gentle kiss on each cheek. "Colonel Sheppard. It is good to see you again. I see you've already met my brother." She fondly brushed Erol's hair from his eyes.

"Ladria," John smiled. "It's good to see you again, too. And yes, Erol and I were just getting acquainted." He lightly squeezed the boy's shoulder. "Hang in there, kiddo."

Erol nodded, his eyes blinking sleepily.

Ladria glanced towards Rodney's bed. "Sorel says your friend was bitten by a bug?"

John nodded. "I didn't get a good look at the bug, but it left a pretty good welt."

He and Ladria walked to Rodney's bed. Rodney stared suspiciously at the pretty blonde, his hand clamped firmly on his neck.

"Rodney," John's eyes narrowed. "Let her look."

Reluctantly, Rodney let his hand fall and Ladria bent over Rodney, gently fingering the small wound. Nodding to herself, she rose, grabbing a glass jar from a cabinet next to the bed.

"It's nothing to worry about," Ladria smiled. "You were bitten by a jenno bug. Its sting is quite powerful, but it is not poisonous. This should help ease the swelling and the pain." She dipped her fingers into the jar and before Rodney could protest, she slathered a large portion of what looked like mud over the injured area.

"God," Rodney yelped, jumping to his feet. "What is that? Yuck. It smells disgusting!"

"Does it still hurt?" Ladria asked, wiping her hands clean on a white cloth.

"Well," Rodney paused. "No," he said, his expression a cross between disgruntlement and relief.

"Good," Ladria smiled. "I'll give you some of this potion to take back with you. Apply it twice a day until the swelling goes down."

"Thank you, Ladria," John smirked pointedly at Rodney. "Told you she could help."

"Whatever," Rodney groaned as Ladria beamed at the colonel.

"Ladria," John lowered his voice, glancing towards her brother's bed. "Erol doesn't seem to be doing very well."

"No," Ladria's blue eyes clouded with concern and her voice was troubled. "A fever has set in, and the wound will not heal. I'm afraid I may have to take the leg. Even then, I don't know…"

"We might be able to help, Ladria," John said earnestly. "I have a friend. He's a great doctor. A healer. Will you let him try?"

"I would be most grateful," Ladria's lower lip trembled and tears glinted in the corner of her eyes. "If he loses the limb…or worse."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," John said firmly. He stiffened as Ladria launched herself at him, enfolding him in a hug.

"Unbelievable," Rodney muttered, stalking out of the building.

Uncomfortably, John squirmed in Ladria's embrace. Tentatively, he patted the young woman on the shoulder and eased himself from her arms. "I'll be back as soon as I can, Ladria."

"Thank you, Colonel Sheppard," Ladria bowed her head at the dashing pilot.

John sprinted out the door, nearly bowling over Rodney, who was standing just outside.

"Hey," Rodney scowled. "Watch it."

"Going to get Beckett. Tell Teyla and Ronon I'll be back," John called as he ran for the jumper.

"Injured man here. Take me with you." Rodney objected.

"No time." John shook his head, never breaking stride.

"I hate this planet," Rodney grumped as the jumper smoothly lifted off, quickly disappearing into the distance.

* * *

John leaned against the infirmary wall as Carson quickly pulled supplies together, loading them into various boxes and duffle bags.

"Tell me again about the boy's injuries," Carson glanced at John.

"From Ladria described, it sounds like a compound fracture of the femur," John said, crossing his arms over his chest. "The leg isn't healing; it's probably infected. Erol is definitely feverish."

"We'll need a portable X-Ray, then," Carson glanced at the colonel. "You know this would be easier if we could bring the boy here."

"I know," John pushed off the wall. "But we can't. We can't risk anyone finding out Atlantis still exists. Elizabeth said to take whatever we need with us."

"I'll need Joanne and Del. The boy is most likely going to require surgery, I.V. antibiotics, constant monitoring. Even then, I can't be sure we can save the leg; or the boy," Carson stared at John seriously.

"Just do what you can, Doc," John said quietly.

As Carson busied himself pulling together the rest of the supplies, John wandered the infirmary floor, noting a bouquet of bright red flowers that reminded him of peonies. He sniffed the flowers, surprised they smelled something like raspberries. He thought he noticed Carson glower at him, but before he could say anything, Joanne walked in, blushing when she saw John staring at the bouquet.

"Who are those from?" he asked with a grin, ascertaining correctly that the flowers were hers.

Joanne shook her head in embarrassment. "Lt. Haversham. Said he saw them as he was walking back to the gate and they reminded him of me." She blushed again. "I didn't want to hurt his feelings, so I put them out here where everyone could enjoy them."

"Ah," John rocked back on his heels and grinned again. Haversham was the young Marine with a crush he'd seen in the cafeteria the day before. He was surprised by the kid's gumption. Carson definitely had some competition for Joanne's hand.

"I think we're ready," Carson said shortly. "Let's go, shall we? Before my patient deteriorates any further."

Lobbing several of the duffle bags over his shoulder, John followed the doctor from the infirmary. Settling next to Joanne as they hurried through the halls of Atlantis, he leaned towards her conspiratorially. "Operation Cake and Ice Cream is a go," he whispered in her ear. "I repeat, Operation Cake and Ice Cream is a go."

At Joanne's glee filled giggle, John could swear he saw Carson's back stiffen. He mildly wondered what had gotten under the doctor's collar. Come to think of it, Carson had seemed miffed for days, and John couldn't think of any reason why. He hadn't even broken out of the infirmary recently. Shrugging it off, John concentrated on getting the massive pile of supplies safely stowed in the jumper. When the last of it was inside, he closed the hatch door.

"Okay kids," John called as he slid into the pilot's seat. "Buckle up."

Tbc…

Emo whump to come….


	16. Chapter 16

I want to thank everyone for continuing to read. And as always, thank you so much for the reviews. They really are life blood to a writer, so keep them coming. I love hearing from you.

Rink Rat, thank you for the beta! You rock!

Chapter 16

Carson pursed his lips and squinted at the X-Rays displayed on the light glass. If he hadn't known it before, he certainly knew it now; the boy was going to require surgery. Although Ladria had done a good job setting the break, the bones had resisted healing, causing the child quite a bit of discomfort. On top of that, an infection had set in where the fractured bone had pierced the skin. He'd already started Erol on a course of I.V. antibiotics.

He glanced across the ward. John was seated next to Erol's bed, entertaining the boy and his sister, taking their minds off all the strange equipment gathered around the boy's bed. Even now, all three were laughing at something John had just said. He saw Ladria gaze at John with something akin to adoration in her eyes and he sighed grumpily. John was one of those men who exuded a natural charm and its effect on women appeared to be universal.

His gaze wandered to Joanne. She stood at the foot of Erol's bed, quietly making notations in his chart. He didn't know why it bugged him that she had joined the multitude of women galaxies' wide that had developed a crush on the dashing pilot. Even if he admitted to himself that he cared for Joanne in _that_ way, he would not be able to act on his feelings. He was CMO of Atlantis; Joanne was a co-worker and under his direct supervision. It was the worst of all possible ideas to become romantically entangled with her. And yet he couldn't help but with that things might be different.

Joanne looked up, and Carson pulled himself from his personal musings. He had a patient to attend to. He quickly crossed the ward and joined Joanne at Erol's bedside. Ladria balled her hands into fists in her lap and looked at Carson apprehensively. He smiled reassuringly at her and then turned his attention to his patient. The boy was putting on a brave face, but underneath it all, he was still just a boy and he was scared. As if sensing it, John gently squeezed Erol's shoulder.

"Well," Carson began. "It's as you suspected, Ladria. The break is not healing on its own, which means we're going to have to help it along. It's going to require surgery and we need to do it as soon as possible. "

"Surgery?" Ladria glanced in confusion at John.

John never took his hand from Erol's shoulder. He was answering Ladria's question, but his attention never wavered from the young boy. "The Doc here will make you fall asleep. While you're sleeping, he'll fix up your bone. And when you wake up, it'll all be over."

John looked seriously at Erol. "Now, I'm not going to lie to you and say it isn't going to hurt. It will, and you'll probably feel like crap…er…feel bad when you wake up for the first time, but it'll pass and it won't be long before you're back to riding horses… er… Samech… behind your sister's back." John grinned.

"Will it hurt a lot?" Erol asked, his eyes wide.

"It's nothing you can't handle. Not that long ago I had to have surgery," John flipped up his shirt, exposing the scar on his right side. "See?"

Erol lightly traced the scar with his finger. "What happened?"

"Carson had to take out my appendix because it was about to burst," John caught Erol's eye. "The Doc took really good care of me. I was pretty sick for a while, but with his help, I got better. And it'll be the same for you." John winked conspiratorially at the boy. "And I'll bet you'll have a scar, too. Girls think scars are sexy."

Erol giggled. Ladria rolled her eyes.

"We brought a portable operating theatre," Carson interjected gently. "It basically sets up a sterile environment for us to work in. It will take us about an hour to get everything ready, and then I suggest we get started. The operation could take several hours. Has Erol had anything to eat or drink recently?"

Ladria swallowed hard and paled slightly, the seriousness of what she was about to let Carson do to her only brother sinking in. She responded to Carson's question with a shake of her head. She grabbed Erol's hand in a tight squeeze.

Quietly, John interceded, slipping Ladria's hand from Erol's and into his own. The last thing Erol needed was to pick up on his sister's distress.

"That's good," Carson nodded. "Nothing to eat or drink until after the surgery is over." He smiled at Erol. "It'll all be over before you know it, lad. Just take it easy and Joanne will be over in a jiffy to give you something to relax you."

"Jiffy?" Erol asked questioningly.

"He means soon," John motioned towards Carson and arched an eyebrow. "He talks funny, doesn't he?" At John's smirk, Erol nodded and laughed.

Carson hrmphed, but smiled inwardly. John could always be counted on to lighten the mood. As Carson worked with Del and Joanne to set up the operating theatre, John kept up a constant stream of animated chatter, with the express purpose of taking Erol and Ladria's minds off of what came next.

By the time Carson was ready to begin, Erol and Ladria had both relaxed. Joanne slipped a needle into Erol's I.V. port and within moments, his eyes sleepily closed. John carefully slipped his arms under the boy's slim frame and gently moved him to the operating table.

"All right then," Carson said to Joanne and Del. "Let's scrub up. Colonel, I don't think Ladria needs to be here for this. Why don't you take her for a nice walk? I'll radio you when we're done here."

John nodded, slipping a hand around Ladria's waist, he ushered her out the door.

When Erol was prepped and everything was ready, Carson stepped up to the operating table.

"Let's save this boy's leg," Carson said to his team.

* * *

Elizabeth clicked save and closed the status update reports she filed daily for the SGC. She had four teams off world, including Colonel Sheppard's team. Sgt. Dorrie's team had a scheduled check-in in two hours. Her stomach rumbled and she decided there was plenty of time for her to get something to eat. She was just about to make her way to the cafeteria when she heard Chuck bellow from the Control Room.

"Unscheduled off world activation!"

Quickly, Elizabeth crossed over to the Control Room. She raised an eyebrow at Chuck and he shook his head. They had yet to receive an IDC.

"Shield up," she said calmly as she walked to the rail overlooking the gate room.

"Already done, Ma'am," Chuck responded. Suddenly he jerked his head up. "Wait. I'm getting Lt. Haversham's IDC."

"Lower the shield," Elizabeth said, her stomach roiling into knots. Haversham was a Marine with Radek Zelenka's team on M66 P39. They weren't scheduled to check in for another six hours. Already she could feel something had gone terribly wrong.

Her hands clenched the rail and she found her breath catching in her throat as she waited for her people to spill through the rippling blue wormhole of the Stargate. She touched her ear piece. "Lt. Haversham. This is Weir. What's your status?"

"_We've been… attacked."_ A breathy voice filtered through the gate.

Immediately, Elizabeth snapped into action, tapping into the internal communications of Atlantis. "Medical team to the gate room. I repeat medical team to the gate room. Major Lorne to the gate room."

The unit of Marines kept on Standby near the gate hustled into position.

But only one person stepped through the gate and as the wormhole winked out, he slowly toppled to the gate room floor.

Elizabeth nearly flew down the stairs, kneeling at the fallen Marine's side.

"Dr. Weir," he panted.

"Lt. Haversham," Elizabeth gently placed a hand on the young Marine's shoulder.

His hands clutched at his stomach. Elizabeth paled when she realized he was holding onto an arrow that had punched through his tac vest. His entire body trembled and sweat bathed his ashen face.

"Medical team to the gate room," she cried again. Although even as she did so, a team led by Dr. Cole swarmed to their side.

She tried to get up, to get out of the medical team's way, but Lt. Haversham grabbed her hand, squeezing it so hard that she nearly cried out in pain. His dark eyes bore into hers.

"Rebels. Attacked." Haversham grunted.

His body suddenly arched inward, as if he was trying to curl himself around the arrow poking from his stomach. He let out a low, guttural cry of pain.

"Dr. Weir," Dr. Cole said urgently. "We need room to work."

"No," Haversham gasped. "I…have…to…tell…you."

"What happened, Lt.?" Elizabeth asked softly, her eyes never wavering from the injured Marine's.

"Rebels….took…Zelenka…at least five others of….our…people." Haversham panted.

Elizabeth's head swam. "And the rest of your team?" she asked quietly.

"Dead." Haversham twisted, tears burning at his eyes. "All dead."

Haversham dropped her hand and she felt herself being gently but firmly moved aside. There'd been fifteen people on that mission. Ten Marines and five civilians. From Haversham's accounting, at least eight members of her expedition might have lost their lives that day.

"Dr. Weir?" Major Lorne's voice broke into her thoughts and she looked up at him with absolute clarity. "Put together a strike force and send Lt. Anderson to pick up Colonel Sheppard and his team. We're getting our people back."

"Yes Ma'am," Major Lorne nodded firmly, shouting orders into his ear piece before he'd even completely turned around.

Slowly, Elizabeth drew herself to her feet and followed the medical team to the infirmary. She needed more information and right now Lt. Haversham, despite his grievous wounds, was the only one who could provide it.

* * *

After sending McKay, Ronon and Teyla to gather their gear for the rescue mission, John sprinted towards the infirmary, Carson and Joanne hot on his heels. He needed to check in with Elizabeth and find out exactly what Haversham had been able to tell her about the situation on M66 P39.

Erol rested comfortably in the jumper, Del at his side. Medics were already on their way to transfer the boy to the infirmary. Carson had refused to leave the boy behind, insisting he needed round the clock medical supervision, so John had agreed to bring Erol with them. Knowing she couldn't provide the care her brother required, Ladria had reluctantly decided to let the 'Lantians take him, though she'd forced John to promise he'd bring her brother safely back home.

John burst into the infirmary and skidded to a stop, barely avoiding a nurse holding several vials of blood as she peeled headlong towards the lab. He took a moment to survey the controlled chaos centered on one gurney in the middle of the infirmary. Elizabeth stood off to the side, intently watching the efforts of the medical team to save Lt. Haversham.

"Elizabeth," he breathed, heading straight towards her.

Alarms next to Haversham's bed blared shrilly and he recognized the keening of unbearable pain. Carson immediately dove into the fray and Joanne joined the nurses at the bedside who were attempting to quiet the struggles of the injured man.

"They think he was poisoned." Elizabeth glanced over at her military commander, grief apparent on her face.

"Back it up for me, Elizabeth," John said quietly, settling next to her against the gurney where she'd positioned herself.

She nodded, crossing her arms in an obvious attempt to distance herself from the life and death struggle taking place across from her. "Dr. Zelenka was working with a team of scientists and archaeologists on some Ancient ruins they'd found on M66 P39. We had the blessing of the local village leader, but all along there have been skirmishes with a small rebel force within the community. We increased Marine presence to help establish a perimeter around where Zelenka and his team were working and up until now, there was very little trouble."

"Do we know what happened to change that?" John asked.

"Lt. Haversham reported the attack, reported that Dr. Zelenka and several others were abducted, but so far he's been unable to tell me what happened. Dr. Cole has been trying to stabilize him before they take him into surgery, but she thinks the arrow was poisoned and so far they haven't been able to counteract it."

"Colonel Sheppard!" Joanne urgently called to him.

John moved swiftly to the lieutenant's side. Joanne was trying to calm him, gently stroking his forehead. She held one of his hands tightly in her own. John had seen mortal wounds before, and there was no doubt in his mind that Haversham was suffering from one. One glance into Joanne's eyes confirmed his suspicions.

"Colonel," Haversham swung his head in John's direction. His voice was hoarse with pain, his eyes feverish.

"Easy, son," John soothed.

Haversham's glance fretfully tracked past John and stopped suddenly on the bouquet of flowers across the room. His face twisted with pain and grief and…guilt? John glanced at the red "peonies" and took Haversham's free hand in his.

"What is it, Lieutenant?" John leaned down as Haversham's mouth worked wordlessly.

"My fault," Haversham finally whispered.

"How so?" John asked quietly.

"The flowers," Haversham coughed, flecks of blood spotting his lips.

"What about the flowers?" John prodded when Haversham's coughing fit finally quieted down.

"I picked them." Haversham closed his eyes and bit his quivering lip. After a moment, he opened them again, glanced briefly at Joanne and then looked once more at his Colonel and continued his confession. "The rebels…they said…I desecrated holy ground."

Biting back a sob, Haversham cried, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. This was my fault. This was all my fault." He glanced desperately at Joanne. "The flowers were…so pretty; they reminded…me of you. I didn't…mean…" Tears streamed down the injured man's face. "I just wanted to give you something pretty."

Joanne's eyes went wide with horror and John squeezed Haversham's hand tightly.

"How many rebels were there, Marine?" John asked.

"I'm sorry," Haversham mumbled, his head tossing restlessly back and forth on his pillow.

"Focus, Marine," John said harshly. "How many attacked you?"

He felt Joanne glare at him accusingly, but Haversham responded to his order. He opened his eyes and looked at his CO.

"Between twenty and thirty, Sir," Haversham said. He coughed again; bloody spittle formed in the corners of his mouth and Joanne gently wiped it away with a damp cloth. Haversham took a deep rasping breath. "They were on us…before we knew what was happening…"

"What kind of weaponry?" John pushed.

"Knives…arrows…and something like a…Molotov cocktail," Haversham groaned in pain, his body nearly arching off the bed.

"Why did they take our people?" John was relentless. But he didn't have much time, or rather, Haversham didn't have much time.

"I don't know," Haversham shook his head, nearly screaming in pain. When the spasm passed, he dropped limply to the bed, his eyes glazed over.

"Which direction did they go?" John pressed on.

"I…I…" Haversham groaned.

"Which direction?" John firmly tapped Haversham's cheek as the Marine's eyes began to close. "Which direction?" he repeated, more loudly this time.

"East," Haversham gasped, his face a twist of pain. "Went East."

"That's great, Lieutenant. You did great." John cupped the stricken lieutenant's face in one hand and forced the man to look at him. "This was not your fault. Do you understand? This was not your fault, Marine."

Haversham nodded, tears glistening his eyes. Then those eyes lost focus. His head drifted to the side and the whine of the heart monitor shrieked in alarm. Joanne dropped Haversham's hand. She dumbly backed away from the bed, bumping into another nurse who was moving in to begin chest compressions. She would have fallen if John hadn't caught her elbows tightly in his hands and led her aside.

Carson and Dr. Cole worked in a concerted effort to bring the young lieutenant back to life. Over and over they shocked him, called out drug orders and shocked him again. Eyes wide and staring, the Marine's body jerked with each jolt of electricity, but each time the heart monitor continued its long uninterrupted whine.

As Carson finally pulled back from the bed and admitted defeat, Joanne sagged in John's arms. He held on to her as her body began to shake with silent sobs. John shared a glance with Carson and then gently passed the grief stricken nurse over to his friend.

"Work with local leadership if you can, John," Elizabeth instructed him quietly. "But do whatever is necessary to bring our people home."

"Yes Ma'am," he said grimly. He tapped his earpiece. "Major Lorne, are we ready to go?"

At the major's affirmative, John swiftly turned on his heel, heading towards the jumper bay.

"John?" Elizabeth stopped him.

He looked at her questioningly.

"Be careful."

"Yes Ma'am." His eyes locked with Elizabeth's for a brief moment. He saw fear and worry break through her calm exterior and then it was gone, tamped back by what he was sure was sheer force of will. He nodded approvingly and then turned his back on the infirmary, on death, intent only on bringing home alive as many of their missing team members as he could.

Tbc…


	17. Chapter 17

Thanks to everyone who's continuing to read this little whumpfest and special thanks to everyone who's left a review.

Rink Rat, you continue to be the awesome-est beta ever. Thank you!

Chapter Seventeen

John sat at the council table, Teyla and Rodney to his right; Ronon and Lorne to his left. The table curved around a dais where the King sat in a chair that could only rightly be called a throne. The king's chamberlain, Faiben, stood at the king's side.

When they'd exited the gate, Faiben had been waiting for them. He'd stood quietly next to several wagons that held Atlantis' dead. John's heart had sunk. He'd hoped Haversham had been wrong, that there had been survivors for them to find. But as John and Lorne moved from wagon to wagon, they'd counted nine bodies. Ten Marines had lost their lives that day. And five civilians were still missing.

Faiben had informed them that King Duncan had requested an audience. Hoping that the king could shed some light on what happened to his missing expedition members, John had quickly ordered a perimeter set up around the gate and while he, Lorne and his team saw the king, several Marines began to transport their dead back to Atlantis.

It became clear within minutes of entering the walled city of Antetum that this was not simply another village; it was a thriving city. Behind the massive gates, busy shops lined the cobblestone streets. Shopkeepers and citizens eyed the off worlders with curiosity as Faiben led them to the large stone palace at the far end of the city.

"We are deeply saddened by the loss of your people," King Duncan said, his wizened face pinching in sorrow. He shifted in his throne and thoughtfully stroked his chin. "Duke Romal has been a thorn in my side for years, but never has he acted so openly in defiance of his king."

"You're positive it was this…Romal who attacked our people?" John asked.

"Without doubt," Faiben's eyes narrowed in anger. He glanced at Duncan, as if asking for permission to continue. At Duncan's short nod, Faiben sat down heavily in the chair at Duncan's side. He gazed solemnly at the 'Lantians.

"Romal's lands lie to the East. For years we've heard rumblings of his zealotry, but that's all it was: rumblings. His lands have become more insular over the years: every year fewer and fewer of his people come to court. I've had to send our treasurer to collect the taxes owed to the king." Faiben sighed. "We are not an overly religious people, but Romal is different. He worships the Ancestors. It has recently come to our attention that he is one of the Cognatio."

"The what?" John interrupted.

"The Cognatio is a secret society that believes in the resurrection of the Ancients. They await the fulfillment of their prophecies, which they believe herald the Ancients' second coming," Faiben provided.

"They're gonna be waiting a long time," John commented, his eyes hardening.

"Not according to Romal," Duncan interjected. "It has come to our attention, with the recent attack on your people that Romal doesn't just believe in the prophecies: he believes he's the living embodiment of them."

"Cognatio," Rodney snapped his fingers. "It means blood relationship in Latin."

"Duke Romal believes he is the rightful heir to the Ancestors. As such, he believes he is destined to wield their power and rule this galaxy," King Duncan's gray eyes were hard as flint.

"The prophecies of the Cognatio await the coming of a man imbued with all the power of the Ancestors, a man who carries the blessings of the Ancient Ones and is protected by them from any who would seek to stop him," Teyla said in dismay. "You're saying Romal believes he is this man, that he is the Chosen?"

"We have already begun to hear stories of Romal's power," King Duncan said wearily. "A peasant who escaped just before Romal's lands were sealed claims the man is immortal."

"That's impossible." Rodney squeaked, his eyes bugging in disbelief.

"You said the lands had been sealed," Ronon said gruffly.

"Yes," King Duncan said quietly. "Romal moved his ducal army into place hours after the assault on the ruins. I'm afraid the rest of your friends are lost to you. As we speak, my generals are formulating a battle plan. It won't be long before we are at war. By the time it's over, Romal will surely have killed your people, if they aren't dead already. I'm truly sorry for your loss. But with what's to come, it would be safest for you to return to your own world and not return."

"We don't leave our people behind," John said harshly, tensing in his seat.

"Please King Duncan," Teyla interceded quietly. "With all due respect, give us a chance to bring our people home."

"I cannot guarantee your safety," King Duncan warned. "I cannot hold off my response to Romal's treason and I won't barter my kingdom for your safety should you fall into Romal's hands."

"We wouldn't ask you to," John assured him. "All we're asking is that you allow us to launch a rescue mission."

King Duncan slowly nodded. "May the Ancestors be with you in your search."

"Thank you," John said gratefully. With or without Duncan's blessing, he would have launched the rescue mission, but it would be much easier with it than without.

"If you'll excuse me, I have much to do." With purpose, King Duncan rose from his throne, swiftly disappearing through a corridor to the back.

"Let's go," John said tersely. "We're gonna need a jumper."

* * *

Radek Zelenka shivered miserably. He'd been alone in his cell ever since they'd dragged away Stephen Cox. He'd never forget the look of terror on Stephen's face as long as he lived, which, come to think of it, might not be that long now. Radek shivered again. His light jacket did nothing to dispel the chill that felt like it had taken root in his very bones. He let his head fall back against the stone wall and closed his eyes, the events of the day playing out in Technicolor behind his closed lids.

The attack on his team had happened so fast, it was nothing more than a blur. He'd heard screams; heard the whine of arrows; a few blasts of P-90 fire. And then he was pinned to the ground, his arms bound behind his back and a bag thrown over his head. He remembered being thrown onto a hard wooden surface, a wagon he figured, because it had begun to sway and move, and he'd recognized the distinct clopping of hooves on dirt. He'd heard muffled groans around him. Someone's elbow had poked uncomfortably against his back. Finally, the motion had stopped and he'd been roughly pulled from the wagon and marched down several flights of stairs. Then the bag had been pulled from his head and he'd been shoved into a dark cell in what he guessed was a dungeon.

A small shaft of light, filtering through a small hole in the ceiling, weakly cut through the darkness. The hole was covered by thick metal bars and even if he'd been able to climb that high, the hole was far too small for him to fit through. A kick in the back of his legs had sent him sprawling and before he could even get his bearings, one of the guards flipped him over on his back, slapping his wrists into manacles secured to the stone wall. The second guard did the same to Stephen, securing him along the opposite wall. Radek dimly remembered asking his captor what he wanted, what he could possibly want with a bunch of scientists, but the man had only laughed, a rough bellow that had the man clutching at his overlarge stomach in delight.

"You've been arrested on order of Lord Romal," the guard grinned, revealing several blackened stumps that were all that remained of his teeth.

"Arrested?" Radek asked faintly. "On what charge?"

"Desecration of holy ground," the guard slammed the door to the cell shut.

"But King Duncan gave us permission," Radek said desperately.

"Duncan don't rule here no more," the guard said harshly. "You'll be questioned and then your sentence will be carried out."

"Sentence?" Radek stammered, his gut twisting in panic.

"The sentence for blasphemy is death." The guard grinned and then stomped away.

Radek's head swam and he thought he heard Stephen whimper. He'd forced himself to breathe and when he looked up, he wondered if his own face mirrored the hopelessness he saw in Stephen's.

"Colonel Sheppard will come for us," Radek said, although the words came out in a whisper and didn't carry the weight of conviction.

Stephen had pulled on the chains, then. And Radek had followed suit. There was no give. There was no way out. They'd stared helpless at each other until the guards returned and dragged Stephen screaming from the cell.

Radek drew his knees to his chest and let his head drop to his hands. He could swear he could still hear Stephen screaming, but he didn't know if it was real or just a trick of his mind. His heart thumped against his chest and he fought lightheadedness. He tried to force himself to breathe deeply. A part of him didn't accept what was happening; didn't accept he was in this dank tiny cell awaiting possible torture and certain death. These things didn't happen to him. To Rodney, certainly, being a part of Colonel Sheppard's team. But Radek spent most of his time on Atlantis, and Colonel Sheppard's workshops on survival training and resisting torture were a dim memory. Saving himself from imminent death was not part of his skill set. If Atlantis didn't mount a rescue, they were most certainly doomed.

Radek looked up. In the murky light, he could barely make out the figures of Diana Boscoe and Lola Veranskaya in the cell across from him. Diana was a physicist who'd been helping him locate a low level power source emanating from the ruins. Lola was their forensic archaeologist. He'd never seen anyone get more excited by a skeleton. She was about to open what she was sure was a tomb when they'd been attacked. Stephen was the linguist among the bunch and he'd made solid headway translating the Ancient writing etched on the ruins. Barry Finster was in the cell next door. He was another archaeologist, and he'd actually attempted to put up a fight as they'd pushed him into his cell. Radek wished he could get the sound of the guards viciously kicking and punching his friend and colleague out of his mind, but he knew he never would. Barry's periodic muffled groans were the only indication the man was still alive.

Footsteps pounded down the corridor. A shadow loomed outside the door. Rusty hinges squeaked and Radek looked up, his heart back to pounding as if it were trying to leap out of his chest.

"Your turn," the guard leered.

Radek's breath hitched in his throat, his legs rubbery as the guard yanked him to his feet and shoved him out of the door of his cell. He felt Diana and Lola's eyes on him. He saw Barry's crumpled form on the floor of the next cell. He forced himself to move one foot in front of the other, determined not to faint. Not to scream.

* * *

The cloaked jumper sped over the countryside. Life signs dotted the HUD like an outbreak of dandelions on a lawn. Duncan had been right. An army was amassed at the border of Romal's land. But far interior, at the manor where five subcutaneous transmitters flashed bright red on the display, hostile forces were limited to a handful. It looked like Romal had thrown all his resources into keeping the king's army at bay, and John intended to take full advantage of it.

John angled the jumper down and glanced back at his strike force. Firm resolve looked back at him. Their orders were shoot to kill. Romal and his men would get no second chances. John wanted the hostiles on the ground before they had a chance to get a poison dipped arrow in the air.

Rodney's knee jerked nervously in the seat next to him. Rodney wasn't a warrior, but as much as he refused to openly acknowledge it, Radek was his friend. John's offer to let him sit this mission out had been roundly refused. John smiled tightly at him and nodded. Rodney nodded back, his leg slowing for a moment before once again picking up speed.

"Okay people," John said as he began his descent. "We're going in. Anderson, stay with the jumper in case we need support."

"What the…" Rodney peered through the window of the jumper, his body stilling in surprise. "Is that a…" His eyes widened in disbelief and he looked at the HUD for confirmation. "Drone," he yelled.

"Shit!" John cried, veering the jumper sharp to the right.

"It's coming back around," Rodney cried out in alarm.

"I can see that Rodney," John bit out, his hands hard on the steering controls. He whipped the jumper around, pitching it into a steep dive towards the ground.

"Sheppard!" Rodney wailed, squeezing his eyes shut as he white knuckled the arm rest.

"Hang on," John said in a clipped voice. At the last moment, he twisted the jumper back up into the sky. The drone hit the ground in a white heat.

"They have drones?" Rodney whimpered. "How do they have drones?"

"We're in a little trouble here guys," John said tersely. "We're gonna have to abort."

"We're cloaked!" Rodney opened his eyes and leaned forward. He stared at John in dawning horror. "How do they even know we're here?"

"Obviously they have Ancient technology down there, Rodney," John growled. "Our cloak wasn't designed to hide us from the Ancients."

"Oh my god," Rodney said breathlessly, pointing at the HUD. "There're three more drones in the air."

"I see 'em Rodney," John said intently.

"They're heading right for us." Rodney looked wildly at John. "Do something!"

"I'm trying," John grimaced, pushing the jumper into another steep dive.

One of the drones overshot, exploding into a tree on the ground. The other two remained on their tail. Again John twisted the jumper, veering swiftly right and left.

But it wasn't enough and the jumper shuddered as one of the drones sheered off the right drive pod. A trail of dark smoke smeared the blue sky.

"Sheppard!" Rodney cried.

"I can't hold her," John said grimly. "Brace for impact."

Barreling towards the wooded hillside at the Eastern border of Romal's land, the jumper sliced through the tops of the trees, slamming into an embankment and coming to an abrupt stop just as the final drone struck the rear compartment and exploded.

Miles away, Romal watched the column of oily smoke drift upwards into the sky and smiled.

Tbc…

Oh my…..hope you're ready for more whump…. and possibly some heroic staggering….


	18. Chapter 18

Wow, I need to apologize to every one of my readers for taking so long to get this update out. RL got extremely busy and pretty much sucked up every ounce of creative energy. When I left that cliffie, I had no idea it was going to take me so long to resolve it.

Thanks so much to Rink Rat for beta'ing this chapter. I played with it some more after she was done with it, so all mistakes are my own.

Chapter Eighteen

Radek Zelenka stumbled as his captor shoved him through the doorway of a large room. Weak from lack of food and water, Radek couldn't recover in time to prevent himself from falling. His legs gave out and he collapsed in a heap on the cold stone floor.

"Get up!" The black toothed guard loomed over him.

Radek yelped at the guard's vicious kick to his ribcage. He curled himself protectively into a ball, pain firing through his chest. He closed his eyes, praying when he re-opened them he'd realize this was all a dream, a terrible nightmare, but he knew it wasn't. The truth was that he would never see Atlantis again. He would pay for exploring the Ancient ruins on this planet with his life. The only question was how he would die.

Panic gnawed at Radek like a living, breathing predator. It gripped him in its teeth and raked him with its claws. His head swam. He couldn't think. He couldn't breathe. He was going to die. If he was lucky he would die quickly. As if from a long way away he heard himself whimper. And then he heard a guttural laugh.

"I think he's going to piss himself, Romal." The guard guffawed. His lips curled into a sadistic smile. He aimed a second kick at Radek's unprotected back. "I said, get up!"

The scientist grunted in pain, his vision graying. It was the laugh that did it. The guard's mockery brought Radek's resolve into focus, forcing the hysteria back into manageable background noise. With great effort, the scientist rolled himself into a crouch, from which he slowly rose to a full standing position. He glanced around at his surroundings, unable to prevent a gasp of surprise. He was in a control room bigger than the one on Atlantis. A red dot blinked on a HUD that was as big as a wall. Ancient text streamed down a display panel mounted next to the HUD.

A man, Radek assumed could only be the Romal referred to by the guard, stood at one of the control stations. The man's dark eyes glittered with malice and, Radek thought, frustration. He swung his gaze across the room; it was then that he saw Stephen Cox.

Panic again assaulted him like an unending wave. It sucked his breath from his chest. Stephen was strung on a wooden rack. He'd been stripped of his shirt and pants. He hung limp and unmoving; his head slumped down, his chin touching his chest. His hair was matted with sweat. Blood smeared his body and pooled on the floor underneath him. Radek noted it had already begun to grow sticky, red turning to brown as it dried. For a moment, Radek thought his colleague was dead. Then he saw Stephen's chest rise and fall in an unsteady motion.

"I am Lord Romal," the dark eyed man walked deliberately towards Radek. "You will tell me what I want to know or you will die."

Radek forced his eyes from his friend and stared at Romal. He was a tall man, sleek and slender. He was richly dressed in black silks and leathers. He would have been handsome if his features hadn't been marred by cruelty.

"You have trespassed on my ancestor's home," Romal placed his hands behind his back and stared accusingly at his prisoner. "And now you dare to invade my lands."

"But we didn't know those ruins were sacred," Radek sputtered. "We're sorry. Let us go, and we'll promise to never return."

Romal glared coldly at Radek and then stabbed a finger towards Stephen. "He tells me you can fix this."

Dumbly, Radek shook his head. "Fix what?"

"I shot down an enemy ship," Romal pointed at the blinking red dot on the HUD. "And then the missiles, the drones as your friend called them, stopped firing. You will make them work again so I can launch an attack against King Duncan's armies and clear the way to the Gate of the Ancestors."

Radek clenched his hands into fists to stop them from trembling. "No," he said softly.

"No?" Romal arched a thin eyebrow at the scientist. He smiled, the smile deepening with pleasure when he saw his prisoner shiver. Softly he said, "He said no, too. At first. And then he did as he was told."

Radek looked at Stephen, startled to find Stephen's blue eyes staring back at him, dead and vacant though they were.

Romal took a few steps towards Stephen, eliciting a whimper of fear from the terrified man.

"Leave him alone!" Radek yelled, his body tensing as if to launch an assault on his friend's tormentor. He stopped cold when Romal began laughing.

"You will do as I say," Romal said, his voice harsh. "You will help me to defeat my enemy, and then you will take me to the Home of the Ancestors where I will take my rightful place as Overlord of this galaxy."

"You," Radek stammered, his voice failing. "You want to go to Atlantis?"

"I am its rightful heir," Romal shouted. "You will take me there."

"No," Radek repeated. Suddenly he knew where the strength of men like Lt. Colonel John Sheppard came from. It came from there being no other choice.

"Kill him," Romal snarled.

Radek steadied himself. This was it. His death would come swiftly after all.

Only it didn't. Not to him. Within seconds, in less time than it took to draw one breath, the guard yanked Stephen's head back by the hair and efficiently drew a knife across his throat. Blood gushed from the mortal wound in a steady flow and Stephen's body seemed to deflate in on itself. The pool of blood at the base of the rack became a lake and the lake became a moving stream; the thick red blood inching closer and closer to Radek's feet.

Radek stared in shock at Stephen's lifeless body, watching in numb horror as the guard pulled the body from the rack and carelessly dragged it from the room, tossing it into the corridor. He felt rough hands pull his arms as he was dragged through Stephen's blood and affixed to the shackles that had just bound his friend.

"You will do as I say," Romal smiled coldly. "Every hour that you do not, another of your friends will die." He turned to the guard. "While we wait, why don't you see if you can make our friend a bit more cooperative?"

Radek flinched as his shirt was ripped from his body. His eyes widened and his mouth went dry in fear when the guard approached, brandishing a red hot poker, letting Radek take a good long look at what was coming.

He tried to steel himself for the pain. Tried to convince himself that the enemy ship that Romal claimed to have shot down had to have been Col. Sheppard. Repeated over and over in his head that rescue was on the way. He just had to hold on.

But every thought fled from his mind when the tip of the poker touched his side. There was only pain.

And finally, Radek Zelenka screamed.

* * *

Lt. Colonel John Sheppard stared at what was left of his jumper in silence. Four men had lost their lives when the last drone blew apart the back hatch. The only reason he and his team were alive was because Ronon had closed the hatch door right before impact. He glanced at Lorne, sitting numbly on the ground. One eye had swelled halfway shut and he cradled his arm close to his chest. He'd come close to perishing with his team of Marines, but he'd lost his grip on the supply webbing during the crash and been pitched forward from his seat into the cockpit, just seconds before the rear hatch had exploded. John sighed, rubbing tiredly at his forehead.

"We have to move," Ronon caught his team leader's eye. There would be time for mourning later. Now there was only survival.

John nodded, wincing as a sharp pain lanced through his neck. He worked the tender muscle and grimaced. Whiplash was a bitch. He chose to ignore the icy pain sitting uncomfortably in his stomach. It didn't bear talking about. There was nothing to do but go forward. So he tightly gripped his P-90 in his hands, hefted his backpack over his shoulder and surveyed his team.

Ronon was sporting a bloody bandage on his arm and was noticeably limping. Teyla had a gash on her forehead and had probably bruised a couple ribs. And Rodney was quiet, too quiet.

"We have two choices," John started. "We can make for Duncan's border, go back to Atlantis, regroup and try again."

Rodney's head whipped up, his eyes already beginning a protest.

"Or," John continued, catching Rodney's eyes with his own, "we can push forward and rescue our people."

"We don't leave people behind." Rodney's voice was soft, but firm.

"Agreed," Ronon said tersely.

John smiled at Teyla and Lorne's answering nods. Thoughtfully he gazed out at the plains stretching before them. "Romal's stronghold is about sixteen clicks due north of here. We have two options for approach: straight across the plains, or east into the hills that skirt this valley."

"We must go further east," Teyla said resolutely. "We're too exposed on the grasslands. We must use the cover of the forest to hide our approach."

"Most of Romal's men may be massed on the Western border, but he'll have enough to send a search party," Lorne warned, "to make sure we're dead or capture any survivors."

"Well then," John said lightly as he reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a trigger mechanism. "We better make sure there's nothing for them to find."

Ronon grinned, and John couldn't help but roll his eyes. The big man liked to blow things up, even if it was one of John's precious jumpers.

John felt a twinge of regret as he watched Ronon place the C4 strategically on the broken remains of his puddlejumper.

"Sorry, old girl," he said softly as he fingered the trigger. Making sure the members of his team had retreated to a safe distance, John backed away from the crash site. "Fire in the hole," he called, flipping the switch.

The remains of the downed jumper exploded and burst into flames.

Taking point, John circled his hand in the air and pointed forward. His team fell in behind him and they headed into the hills, moving deeper into the forest.

TBC…


	19. Chapter 19

A special thanks to everyone still reading. I truly appreciate your patience with the upheavals in my personal life that have caused some gaps in updates. Know, though, that this story will not be left incomplete! It just might take a little bit of time.

Rink Rat—as ever, thanks for the beta!

Chapter 19

John kicked his boot into the dirt on the side of the ridge, creating a toehold. He gripped the rock above his head and heaved himself up. Immediately he began creating the next toehold. It was the third ridge they'd had to ascend in order to continue moving East through the forest. This region of Romal's lands appeared to be largely unoccupied; they had yet to find a single man made trail. They'd been following what looked like deer paths, but what passed for deer on this planet must have the climbing abilities of a Bighorn Sheep since those trails had led straight up the sides of rocky ridges.

They'd been walking at a steady pace for six hours and were now beginning to lose their light. John thought the trees were finally beginning to edge to the North, but he was loathe to keep traveling in unknown territory in the dark. They would need to find a place to set up camp for the night. Radek and the other scientists were going to have to hang on for a while longer. He pushed back the nagging thought that Radek and his team didn't have a while longer. John had underestimated Romal's defenses. It had cost him a jumper. He hoped it didn't also cost the lives of five members of his expedition.

John winced, stopping a moment to dig his hand into the pit of his stomach. He felt sweat pop out on his forehead and he rested his head against the rock face, waiting for the pain to pass.

"John?" Teyla called out softly from behind him. "Are you all right?"

"I'm good." John called back. He grit his teeth, settled his foot into the next toehold and heaved himself up.

Rodney grunted behind him. John spared a glance back; Rodney's face was red with strain, and then John saw panic flare in Rodney's eyes as his feet suddenly lost their purchase on the rocks.

"I've got you," Teyla reassured the struggling scientist. Her hand stabilized his back, pushing him upwards. Finally, Rodney got a solid grip on a rock ledge and he scrambled to the next toehold.

"We're almost there, Rodney," John said encouragingly. "Just keep moving. Don't stop."

They were climbing the ridge single file; Rodney in between John and Teyla, the injured Major Lorne in between Teyla and Ronon. John hoped this was the last ravine they were going to have to climb. Not a single member of his team had walked away from the jumper crash unscathed, and they were all tiring. Even the irascible Rodney had been reduced to mere grunts from time to time. Silence had descended on the little group, and to John, that more than anything added to the sense of hopelessness overtaking their mood.

John grunted against another wave of pain in his stomach and kept climbing. It had crossed his mind that even if they managed to break Radek and his team out of Romal's fortress, they still had to get home. Making a break for it through the mountains and over Romal's border was going to be no mean feat, especially if Romal decided to pursue them. Who knew what other Ancient tech the man had in his arsenal. And who knew if they would find help on the other side of Romal's border.

"My God, are we almost there yet? How high is this stupid mountain anyway?" Rodney finally broke the silence with a whine. "Radek better appreciate what I'm doing for him. I could be back on Atlantis enjoying a nice turkey sandwich right about now instead of nearly killing myself on this rescue mission. A mission, I might add, we are now going to need rescuing from ourselves!"

"I'm sure Radek will find an appropriate way to thank you for your sacrifice," Teyla assured him.

John held back a chuckle. He could almost see the wheels turning in Rodney's brain as he tried to figure out of he'd just been insulted.

"Why don't you quit talking and keep climbing?" Ronon scowled up at the struggling scientist.

"Now kids, don't make me come back there," John drawled, his own mood lightening as his team began to fall back into their familiar patterns.

Just then his fingers hit open space and he realized with relief he'd come to the top of the ravine. He heaved himself up and over, immediately turning around to help Rodney clamber over the top.

Rodney collapsed onto his back with a moan, staring with exhaustion up at the quickly darkening sky.

John held his hand out to Teyla, who grasped it gratefully. As soon as her feet were on solid ground, she helped John assist Lorne up, taking care to jostle his injured arm as little as possible.

"Food. I need food." Rodney moaned pitifully. "And water."

Last came Ronon, who made it over the top of the ridge without any assistance. John marveled at the big man's ability to shrug off injury; his limp was barely noticeable now.

"Seriously, hypoglycemic shock here," Rodney struggled to a sitting position. "And you," he glared at John, "stole all my power bars before we set off on this little jaunt through the forest."

"It's called rationing, Rodney," John rolled his eyes as he tossed the scientist a canteen and half a power bar. "And we have five canteens of water for all of us and no known water source, so go slowly with that."

Ronon stood quietly, surveying their surroundings. Shadows were beginning to deepen in the trees, but a full moon bathed the top of the ridge in soft light.

"We should all eat," John settled himself on the pebbly ground. He passed everyone a half a power bar. "We need to keep our strength up."

They ate their meager portions in silence. John had just shoved the empty power bar wrapper back into his pack when Ronon suddenly went on full alert.

"Did you hear that?" The former runner gracefully leapt to a crouch, his blaster in his hands. He bent his head towards the forest.

Teyla lithely followed suit. She carefully scanned the tree line, her P-90 at the ready.

"Hear what?" John asked intently, his body bunching with tension. He too eased himself to his feet, pulling his P-90 into his hands.

Rodney stared at the trees with trepidation. Lorne struggled to his feet, his handgun in his one good hand.

A screeching howl broke the silence, followed by a series of answering yips.

"What the hell is that?" Rodney yelped, scrambling to his feet.

"I don't know," John said warily, "but whatever they are, they sound hungry."

"Oh my god," Rodney's voice quavered as the first beast broke from the cover of the trees. Eyes wide with fear, he pulled his gun from the holster at his thigh, holding it protectively in front of him.

John shifted on his feet, tightening his grip on his P-90 as the creature gracefully stalked towards them. John wasn't sure what to call it. It had the lithe body of a black panther, the head of a hyena, and razor sharp claws. The beast haughtily sat on its haunches and howled. Within seconds, five more hyena cats formed a semi circle around the small clearing. John edged backwards, feeling the crevice yawning just behind them. The cat creatures had them trapped against the edge of the gorge.

The luminescent green eyes of the creatures glittered hungrily and then the lead hyena cat got to its feet, letting loose one more howl before the six creatures leapt, attacking as one.

Automatic weapons fire strafed the small clearing. Moving at 360 feet per second, the rounds from John and Teyla's P-90's pumped into two of the hyena cats before their paws had even cleared the ground. Screams turned to mewls, and the animals twitched helplessly as their bodies bled out. A third fell heavily from mid-air, hitting the ground with a resounding crash; it didn't get back up.

But three of the beasts made it through the hail of bullets and they closed in on the two men they perceived to be the weakest: Rodney and Lorne. With a roar, Ronon fired his blaster at one of the cats. It fell back, screaming in defiance and then despite its grievous wounds, launched itself at Ronon, toppling the big man to the ground.

Desperately Lorne and Rodney fired their handguns as the two creatures closed in. But while the handgun fire slowed the two hyena cats down, it didn't stop them, and before John and Teyla could turn their weapons on the cats, one had viciously swiped at Lorne, sending him flying into a nearby tree. His head slammed into the tree trunk, his chest wet with blood where the creature's claws had scored him.

Rodney fired until his gun ran out of bullets. He could swear the creature smiled when the gun was reduced to a series of empty clicks. Rodney stood, his feet backed up to the edge of the ravine. He had no place to go, no where he could run. He stared in disbelief as the creature's muscles tensed to spring. Of all the ways he'd thought he might die, being torn about by a vicious cat like thing wasn't even on the list.

Machine gun fire erupted and pummeled by bullets from John's P-90, the hyena cat fell heavily to the ground. Gasping, Rodney looked wildly at John, who nodded back.

Teyla emptied her P-90 into the beast menacing Lorne. The creature dropped at the feet of the unconscious man.

Ronon wrestled with the last of the hyena cats. He felt claws rip his arms, teeth sink into his shoulder. They rolled round and round on the ground, Ronon's arms clamped around the ribcage of the beast.

John and Teyla watched helplessly. They couldn't fire without the risk of hitting Ronon.

"For god's sake, do something!" Rodney helplessly gripped his useless gun.

Finally, Ronon threw the big cat off of him, rolling quickly away.

John and Teyla both brought their guns up, but before they could take aim, the cat sprang again.

Ronon leapt to his feet, opening his arms wide as if to meet the beast in an embrace.

Suddenly the hyena cat screamed, lost its forward motion and crashed limply to the ground. Sticking out of its chest was a crossbow bolt.

In disbelief, John glanced towards the back of the clearing. A boy stared back at him, his crossbow still raised in his thin arms.

Ronon wavered on his feet. Rubbery legs could no longer support his body and slowly he toppled to the ground, his dark eyes blinking in confusion.

"Ronon!" Teyla glanced up from where she was crouched next to an unconscious Lorne.

Rodney ran to Ronon's side while John never took his eyes from the strange boy. He guessed the kid to be about sixteen. He wore rough, homespun clothing and soft leather boots. He held the crossbow as if he'd held one all his life. His dark eyes glittered with suspicion.

"Whoa," John said softly, slowly raising his hands in submission. If the kid let off another arrow, he doubted he could dive out of the way in time. "We're not here to hurt anyone. We got attacked by those…cat things. Put the bow down. Please. I need to help my friends."

Slowly the tip of the bow tilted towards the ground. The boy inched his way closer, peering at the two wounded men on the ground. He knelt next to Lorne and carefully, even gently, probed a deep scratch on Lorne's chest.

"They were scratched by the Bessah." The boy said, jerking his head towards the bodies of the cats.

"Yeah," John said, kneeling next to Ronon. The big man was panting heavily. His eyes were open, but unseeing.

"Major Lorne is having difficulty breathing," Teyla called urgently.

"What's happening to my friends?" John demanded of the boy. "You know. You've seen this before."

"Yes," the boy nodded gravely. "The claws of the Bessah are deadly."

John's heart sank. They had nothing in their medical gear to deal with this.

Not taking his hand from Ronon's arm, John glanced urgently up at the teenager. "I'm Lt. Colonel John Sheppard. That's Teyla and Rodney. And our injured friends are Ronon and Major Lorne. We're travelers who've lost our way. Is there a village close by where we can get help?"

John knew it was a dangerous long shot. They were on Romal's lands, and most likely anyone they encountered would be loyal to him. But Ronon and Lorne needed help, fast. Without it, they weren't going to survive.

"I'm Jadaan." The boy said. "There's no village for miles."

John swallowed hard. He couldn't accept this. He couldn't lose Ronon and Lorne.

"Please," John said thickly, desperately looking Jadaan in the eye. "There must be some way to treat the poison."

Jadaan stared thoughtfully at the strangers surrounding him, as if coming to a decision. Finally he nodded. "There's a cure. We have to get your friends to my sister."

"Thank you," John reached for Jadaan's hand, shaking it gently. "Thank you."

"It might already be too late," Jadaan warned, pulling himself to his feet.

John nodded his understanding. A chance was better than none.

"I've got Ronon," John said, hefting the big guy up, cursing as he began staggering under his weight. "Come on, Chewie," he grunted. "You're going to have to help me here."

Rodney and Teyla each grabbed one of Lorne's arms and pulled the man to his feet. Settling Lorne's arms around their necks, they carried the wounded man between them.

"How far is it?" John asked through clenched teeth, pain firing in his belly.

"Not far," Jadaan replied, suddenly seeming to notice that John could barely hold the senseless man upright. He took Ronon's other arm, resting it around his wiry shoulders.

Jadaan turned south, and John felt a pang at the realization they were moving still further away from Radek and the other scientists. Silently, he offered up an apology, even as he began to wonder if any of them would make it back to Atlantis.

Tbc…

I'm just gonna whump everyone… *big grin*


	20. Chapter 20

Thank you Rink Rat for the beta. Always so very appreciated!

And thanks to all who continue to read and review.

Chapter 20

Joanne stood at the far end of the pier, her hair glinted deep red in the bright sunlight. Carson hesitated, unsure if he should disturb her. Earlier that day she had stood by the flag draped casket of Lt. Brandon Haversham, keeping it company until it was beamed aboard the Daedalus for transport back to Earth. He knew she still blamed herself and those stupid flowers, for his death.

"You should go to her, Carson." He felt a light touch on his shoulder and turned at the sound of Elizabeth's voice.

"I think maybe she just wants to be alone," Carson hedged. "She's had a rough day."

"Trust me," Elizabeth said, her voice rough with emotion. "She doesn't want to be alone. She wants someone to hold her, preferably someone she cares for and someone she knows cares about her."

Carson looked knowingly at the expedition leader. Two days had gone by since Lt. John Sheppard had taken a strike force to M66 P39. They were long overdue and attempts to raise them by radio had been unsuccessful. They knew from reconnaissance conducted by an aerial drone that all out war had broken out on the planet and battles raged uncomfortably close to the Stargate. Elizabeth had instructed the Daedalus to pass by the planet on its way back to Earth, but even at top speed, it would take well over a week for the ship to get there.

"He's going to be okay, Elizabeth. They all are." Even to Carson's own ears the assurance lacked weight. He tried again. "We've seen the Colonel get into more scrapes than we can count, his whole bloody team for that matter, and yet each time they come back. Sometimes a little worse for wear, granted," Carson admitted, "but somewhere out there, they're fighting to survive. You can count on that."

"I know," Elizabeth nodded, smiling gratefully when Carson grabbed her hand and squeezed it, hard. "I know," she said with more conviction. She squeezed Carson's hand and then let it go. "Go to her, Carson. That's an order."

As Elizabeth walked away, Carson took a deep breath and then started walking down the pier. When he reached the red headed nurse, he realized he hadn't given any thought as to what he would say. As his mind searched for the right words, any words that might provide comfort, Joanne looked up at him. Her face was streaked with tears, but her eyes were now dry.

"Hi," Carson stammered. "How are you, lass?" He felt himself turn red and he could have kicked himself for the inane question.

"We were supposed to be celebrating your birthday today," Joanne said, as if he hadn't spoken at all. Her voice was like gravel as she continued. "Cake and ice cream and presents and happiness and laughter." She looked helplessly at him.

Suddenly, Carson knew what to do. Elizabeth had been right. Without words he reached towards the grief stricken woman and pulled her into his arms. Gently he stroked her back and he felt her melt against him. Her head rested on his chest; her soft lips brushed up against his neck, her breath like feathers against his cool skin. She didn't cry. She'd already cried herself out. But they stood on the pier, holding on to each other until the sun finally began to sink in the horizon, turning the sky a brilliant shade of red.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Joanne murmured, watching as the sunset began to darken, casting Atlantis into shadow.

"Aye," Carson said simply.

"Life should be celebrated, don't you think?" Joanne asked softly, her green eyes seeking out Carson's. At his gentle nod she said, "Happy birthday, Carson."

"Thank you, Joanne," Carson replied solemnly. "You know, I think there just might be some cake and ice cream in the kitchen. Would you like to join me?" He held his hand out to her.

"I'd love to," Joanne nodded, slipping her hand into his.

Fingers entwined, Joanne and Carson slowly made their way back to the city.

* * *

Radek Zelenka huddled in the cold dark corner of his cell and shivered. He thought he might be losing his mind. His body didn't hurt anymore. He felt strangely separated from it, like it no longer belonged to him. He was actually glad about that. The pain had been unbearable. But it wasn't the pain that broke him. It was Diana.

After an hour of torturing him, his tormentors had fetched Diana from her cell. When they'd dragged her past Stephen's body she'd started to cry. When they yanked her into the control room and she saw Radek strung out on the rack, bleeding from multiple wounds, her cries had turned to strangled gasps. And then her eyes had strayed to the floor and she saw all the blood. It was then that she started to scream. And scream. And scream. She didn't stop screaming until Romal silenced her forever, drawing a knife across her throat.

Romal had smiled at Radek. Told him he might want to rethink his position on silence. Barry had died from his wounds, but there was still Lola. Whoever talked first, that person would be the one to live.

Radek had simply stared at the man in horror. His mind went blank. Radek was an intellectual. He was always thinking: when he woke up in the morning, when he went to bed at night, and all the times in between. At any given moment, he had dozens of problems running through his mind; his brain constantly seeking answers and solutions. For the first time in his life, Radek's mind was a complete and utter blank. It was then that the pain had receded. He'd begun to watch the events of the final moments of his life play out as if it were happening to someone else. He would never betray Atlantis to Romal. And so he was prepared to die. And if his mind died first, that was okay with him.

He thought he heard Lola crying in the cell next to his, but he couldn't be sure. He accepted that his mind was gone when he saw a dark haired woman slip inside his cell. With warm and gentle hands she tended to him, cleansed his wounds, tipped his head back and trickled water into his parched throat. She whispered soothing words in his ear and then she was gone.

Radek smiled. He knew who the woman was, of course: She was the personification of Atlantis, offering him thanks and solace for his devotion to her. Had to be. The thought of comfort coming from any other source in this hell hole was unthinkable. Radek closed his eyes and dreamed of the looming towers of the Ancient City. He hoped he would never wake.

* * *

Darkness had fully descended, making John feel like he was walking blind. Ronon had lost consciousness about half an hour before. His head lolled senseless against his chest, and his weight hung heavy on John's shoulders; it took all his effort to keep putting one foot in front of the other. The youth on Ronon's other side seemed unaffected by the big Satedan's weight or the pitch black forest. He nimbly picked his way through the trees, as if following a path only he could see. It niggled at the back of John's mind that he'd entrusted his entire team, and Ronon and Lorne's lives, to one unknown teenage boy. For all he knew, Jadaan was leading them right into a trap, but no matter how he looked at it, he didn't see any other choice.

John winced at a particularly painful pinch in his stomach. "How much further?" he asked.

"Not far," Jadaan replied.

"How can you tell? It's so dark out here I can't see two inches in front of my face!" Rodney piped up from behind them, his aggravated challenge morphing into a cry of pain when he stumbled over an exposed root. "Dammit!" he howled, outraged. "I think my toe's broken! This isn't a path. There's nothing out here. Admit it! Just who the hell are you, Jadaan and where are you taking us?"

"Rodney," Teyla voiced a warning.

"Oh come on!" Rodney said. "You're thinking the same thing as I am."

"Rodney!" John said sharply, before angling his head at Jadaan and adding, "He does have a point. Where are we going?"

"Home." Jadaan said simply.

Without warning, the densely packed trees opened up into a small clearing. Bright candles flared from the windows of a small house. Within seconds the front door flew open and a small boy charged out.

"Jadaan!" The boy cried, running towards the teenager. He drew up short when he realized five strangers had entered the clearing as well.

"Wyck," Jadaan greeted the child. "Go tell Jahmela we have wounded."

"Jahmela!" Wyck yelled, glancing back toward the house but not moving from his position. He stared in open curiosity at the Lantians.

"I coulda done that, Wyck," Jadaan grumbled, glaring in annoyance at the child.

John smiled at the small boy, judging his age to be around four. Wyck's features mirrored Jadaan's and John figured the two boys for brothers.

"Wyck, what are you yelling about? Jahmela says to get inside before you raise the dead!" The exasperated voice was followed by a young girl ducking her head out of the house's doorway. Her eyes widened and her mouth froze into an O of surprise when she realized her brother was not alone. "Jahmela," she yelled, glancing frantically back into the interior of the house.

"Wyck, get inside." Jadaan ordered, "Help Danicka make up the beds in your room with fresh bedding."

"Are they dead?" Wyck ignored his brother. His eyes were sorrowful as he stared at the two unconscious men.

"Would I ask you to make up the beds for two corpses?" Jadaan snapped, out of patience with his little brother. "Now get inside and do as I say."

As if used to this attitude from his older sibling, Wyck merely rolled his eyes before turning on his heels and running towards the house, hollering as he went, "Come on Danicka, Jadaan says we gotta make up the beds." The little boy grabbed his sister's hand and tugged her into the house.

"By the Ancients, what on earth is going on out here?" Jahmela finally made her appearance in the doorway and John thought he saw an immense look of relief pass through Jadaan's eyes. "What happened, Jadaan? Who are these people?"

"They were being tracked by the Bessah," Jadaan began to explain when his sister interrupted with a gasp, her porcelain face going even whiter with fear.

"Jadaan!" She glanced wildly into the surrounding forest. "You didn't bring them here?"

"Of course not!" Jadaan responded harshly to his sister's rebuke. "They're all dead."

John watched the girl struggle to compose herself. She was older than Jadaan, but John guessed not by much. She was a striking young woman, dark hair fell in waves down her face and shoulders and her eyes were a piercing blue. They landed full on John and for a second, he thought she could see right through him. She edged him out of the way and slipped Ronon's arm around her own slim shoulders. As he wrapped one arm around his middle, he felt the muscles in his legs tremble with strain and he was grateful for the girl's intervention.

"Let's get them inside." Jahmela ordered.

As quickly as they could, they half carried half dragged the two injured men inside the house. Teyla and Rodney followed Jahmela into a bedroom. Jahmela and Jadaan carefully set Ronon on one of the freshly made beds. Rodney and Teyla set Lorne down on the other. A toybox overflowed in the corner of the room, and a stuffed animal lay on the floor next to one of the beds. A delicately embroidered tapestry hung over the other bed.

Danicka rushed into the bedroom carrying a satchel and a handful of towels and strips of cloth. Wyck followed behind carefully holding a large washbasin filled with steaming water.

"Wyck," Jahmela addressed the small boy, "can you please make our guests comfortable in the other room? Except you," she pointed at John. "You stay. Sit down over there," she pointed to a large cushion filled chair in the corner. "I'll see to you when I'm done with your friends."

Quickly, Jahmila exposed the wounds on Ronon's chest. "Nika, crush the herbs like I showed you and steep them in the basin. Then soak the dressings."

"I know what to do, Jahmela," Danicka said softly, efficiently carrying out the older girl's instructions.

"I know you do," Jahmela smiled an apology at her younger sister even as a flash of pain flared in her blue eyes. Turning her attention back to her patient, she pressed the towels into Ronon's wounds, then peeled back his eyelids and expertly studied his pupils. She quickly moved to Lorne's side and repeated the process.

"Did he hit his head?" She asked John, even as her fingers began to slide probingly along Lorne's skull.

"Against a tree," John confirmed.

"I don't feel any depressions," Jahmela noted, "so I don't think he cracked his skull."

"The compresses are ready," Danicka interrupted.

Jahmela nodded, moving back to Ronon's side. She began cleaning his wounds with a piece of cloth while Danicka did the same to Lorne. The girls went about their work in silence, and when they both deemed the wounds clean enough, they began to pack them with the compresses. They then bound the compresses in place with a dry bandage.

"You two seem a little young to be doctors," John observed, quietly breaking the silence.

"Doctors?" Jahmela asked, puzzled, setting the back of her hand on Ronon's forehead. The big man stirred under her touch, a long moan escaping his lips.

"Healers," John explained, leaning forward worriedly. "Are they going to be okay?"

"My mother taught me, as I now teach Danicka." The girl looked compassionately at John. "I can't promise your friends will survive this ordeal. The claws of the Bessah hold a potent poison. It kills within hours; we might not have delivered the treatment soon enough. But I promise you, we are doing everything possible."

Jahmila tiredly stretched the kinks out of her back. Danicka began gathering together the discarded bloody towels, grabbed the bowl of now pinkish water and quickly left the room. Jahmela checked Lorne's dressings, laid her hand upon his brow, and, satisfied, turned back to John.

"Okay, now you." Jahmela knelt at the side of John's chair. "Tell me where it hurts."

"Really, I'm fine." John squirmed under the girl's penetrating stare. He was reminded suddenly of Carson and couldn't help a shudder. God help him if those two ever got in the same room together. "Why don't you tell me about these Bessah creatures?"

"You're worse than Jadaan," Jahmela scoffed. She gently, but firmly pushed back on John's shoulders, exposing his abdomen.

John winced as Jahmela's fingers found a tender spot. His reaction elicited even further probing of the area until he could no longer hold back a slight groan.

"So, the Bessah," John said through clenched teeth, desperate for anything to distract him from the girl's ministrations.

Jahmela removed her hands from John's abdomen and let her arms fall to her sides. Thoughtfully, she studied the man in front of her and then seemed to come to a decision.

"The Bessah are Romal's beasts. Once they get your scent, they won't stop until they've killed you."

"You were worried we'd brought them here," John remembered her extreme reaction outside the house. "Do they have your scent?"

"Yes," she answered, her face paling.

"Why?" John asked.

"Because of this," Jahmela reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of technology John recognized. "Do you know what this is?" Jahmela asked as she ran the wand of the scanner over his abdomen.

"It's an Ancient scanner," John responded, amazed at how expertly she handled the instrument. It responded to her touch as if it were an extension of her hand. John recognized the ease with which she used it. It was the same ease with which he used Ancient tech.

"It looks like you've just pulled a muscle," Jahmela diagnosed, "but you should take it easy for a few days."

"Are you Ancient?" John asked. "Is Romal?"

Jahmela moved to Ronon's bed, examining him with the scanner. Satisfied she moved on to Lorne, her lips pursing in concentration as she examined the injury to his head.

"Jahmela, what is going on here?" John asked, bewildered.

"For the past year, Romal has gathered those with the Ancestral blood to his side and purged his lands of all those who don't carry it," Jahmela explained.

"By purged you mean…?" John arched an eyebrow.

"Killed," Jahmela clarified, her eyes lowering to the floor. "All those who opposed him in these efforts were deemed traitors to the Blood and sentenced to death."

"Your family," John said. "You, Jadaan, Danicka, little Wyck?"

"Sentenced to die because our parents called Romal what he really is: a murdering tyrant," Jahmela nodded, her eyes defiant.

"And your parents?" John asked, his heart sinking because deep down he already knew the answer. There was only one reason these children were out here on their own.

"Dead," Jahmela confirmed, sinking into the chair John had just vacated. "They managed to get us to safety before they were taken." For a moment her eyes teared up and then she pushed the emotion back and stared up at John. "Why did Romal set the beasts upon you and your friends?"

"He kidnapped members of my expedition," John explained carefully, not sure if he should mention his connection to Atlantis to the girl or not. "My friends and I came to rescue them, only it didn't turn out so well." He laughed ruefully.

"I'm sorry John," Jahmela shook her head, her eyes filled with sadness. "If Romal has them, your friends are surely dead. He keeps no prisoners alive."

"We don't leave men behind," John said firmly, his eyes hardening. "I'm not going home without them."

"Then you too, will surely die," Jahmela said softly.

As the girl got up and briskly left the room, John was left to wonder if she was right, if his own stubbornness to admit defeat was finally going to get him killed.

He looked up as Teyla and Rodney entered the bedroom. In that instant, he knew they wouldn't be coming with him. If the girl was right, if this was a suicide mission, then he would go alone.

"You have to get Ronon and Lorne back to Atlantis," John said to them.

"Wait a second," Rodney spluttered, suspicion dawning in his eyes. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going after Radek. Alone." John said in a voice that brooked no argument. "I leave at first light."

Tbc..


	21. Chapter 21

My goodness it's been a long time since I've updated. I'm so incredibly sorry. Real life. You know. It sucks sometimes.

However, the story is now complete, and I'll update every couple of days until it's done.

I want to thank everyone who's alerted this story, favorited it and left reviews. Thank you for not giving up on the story even though it's taken me so long to write it.

And finally thanks to Rink for beta-ing this story from start to finish. You are awesome!

Let's see, how about a little recap? When last we left off, the team had been attacked by scary hyena cat things, they were saved by a local boy named Jadaan who took a badly injured Lorne and Ronon, along with the rest of the team, to his sister, Jahmela the healer where they also met Jadaan's younger sister and brother Danika and Wyck. John discovered Jahmela has the Ancient gene and John had just decided to take the matter of Radek's rescue into his own hands….

Chapter Twenty One

Romal absently fingered the jewel he wore around his neck and stared at the unresponsive crystals on the Ancient panel. Thus far, his prisoners had been a disappointment. Only one had offered any useful information at all. Now three of them were dead and the last two were practically catatonic. He touched crystal after crystal on the panel, but nothing he did mattered. The panel remained unlit. Right here in this room was the weapon he needed to destroy the city of Antetum and King Duncan along with it, and now it wouldn't work. Where once it had responded to his every touch, to his every thought, it was now dead, devoid of light. The humming that had filled his mind had gone quiet.

Romal trailed long slender fingers along the dusky metal. This room had been a recent discovery. It had remained hidden deep within the castle walls for hundreds of years, discovered by accident. When he'd first touched the crystals, the panel had flared to life and at the same time had woken something inside of him. He'd never felt such power. It had flooded his senses, physically and mentally. He'd fired those drones at the enemy ship with a simple thought; they'd responded to his commands as if they were an extension of his own body. It was the most thrilling thing he'd ever experienced. When the connection had been severed, it was as if he'd lost a part of himself. He yearned for it, as a babe yearns for his mother's milk.

He'd always known he was special. From the time he was a boy he had known he was destined for more than a ducal palace and subservience to a mediocre king. His family was of the Blood. That alone made him superior to the _vacuos_, the empty ones. When he'd come of age, he had performed the ritual and been initiated into the Cognatio, it was there he'd learned of the Prophecy. A thrill had gone through him, a voice deep within whispered that he was the one of whom the Prophecy spoke, that he was the leader his people had waited centuries to appear. He lived with this secret knowledge for many years until finally, on his thirtieth birthday the Ancestors blessed him with the Sign.

The day he turned thirty he almost died. Betrayed by one of his own, he still remembered the glint of the knife, the blade arcing viciously towards his chest. It was a killing blow. Except the knife had skittered away before it could spill even a drop of blood, stopped by a powerful force. Stopped by the Hand of the Ancients themselves, Romal knew. He'd turned the knife on his attacker, relishing the moment the light had gone out of his eyes. He'd strung the body up outside the castle, a warning to all those would seek to harm him. But there were those who disbelieved, a pitiful rebel movement sought to overthrow him. Twice more there were attempts on his life, and twice more a powerful hand intervened, saving his life.

Word of the Miracles spread throughout the land. Romal the Immortal they called him. Romal the Chosen one. He burned with the fire of the righteous. And he attacked the vacuos with a vengeance. The purges that had gone before were child's play, for he knew now his purpose in life: preserve the purity of the Ancestral blood and return her people to the Home of the Ancestors, to the halls of Atlantis.

He'd known his whole life about the Tomb of the Ancients on Duncan's lands. It was a sacred space, the final resting place of the Ancients who'd inhabited these lands long before their race had disappeared. And then he'd heard the Tomb had been desecrated by visitors who'd come through the Ancestral Ring. Sources within Duncan's court sent word that these strangers, though secretive about where they came from, possessed knowledge of the Ancients. Immediately Romal had ordered the raid, both to avenge the abomination of a vacuos touching a sacred place of the Blood and to gain access to the knowledge these people possessed of his Ancestors.

After some persuasion, the first prisoner had been quite helpful. Romal had heard stories of the splendors of the Ancestral Home, Atlantis, but he'd feared the city had not survived the test of time and disappeared into Myth. He'd been elated to learn Atlantis had survived. It awaited his return. Then the prisoner had shown him how to use the Ancient relic, to bring up the display screen, track his enemy's movements, and fire upon them with nothing more than a thought. Romal had known then he would triumph in his quest to return the Ancients to their rightful place in the Galaxy. He would lead the Ancient peoples back to their Homeland. Rid the Galaxy of the scourge of the Wraith once and for all, and all the peoples of the Galaxy would worship at his feet.

But then he'd seen the strange flying ship invade his lands, and he'd shot it out of the sky. The prisoner had stared at the image on the display in horror and with a few words tried to take Romal's triumph away. He told Romal he'd never seize Atlantis, that his way was barred by a shield. Without the proper code, he would die before he ever saw the Ancestral Home. His mind had surged with rage. It was then that the Ancient relic had sputtered and died.

Victory had been within his grasp, but now it was slipping away. He'd needed a new tactic. And so he'd sent Samyrah to tend to the prisoners: to heal their wounds and gain their trust, so they would give her the answers he so desperately needed.

He had no doubt she would do as he bade. He held the lives of her children in his hands. It didn't matter that he didn't know exactly where they were hiding, once he ordered it, the Bessah would eventually find them. As long as she cooperated, they still lived. He clasped his hands behind his back and smiled. Everything he dreamed would come to pass. He just needed to remain patient. He needed to remain faithful to the Prophecy, and the Prophecy would remain faithful to him. Destiny would win out.

* * *

Sometimes things did not go as planned John mused, carefully making his way up the steep ravine. The sun beat high overhead and a bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face. Trudging forward he absently wiped it away with his sleeve.

"Did he have to pick the hardest route to get there?" Rodney whined, causing a small avalanche of rocks as he momentarily lost his footing.

Case in point, John thought, giving in to a half smile as he glanced back at the red faced scientist huffing and puffing behind him. He held out a hand, which Rodney quickly grabbed in an attempt to stabilize his foothold on the hill side.

"It's the quickest route," Jadaan scowled, nimbly maneuvering his way to the top of the ravine.

"Maybe if you're a goat," Rodney glowered.

"Rodney," John pinned Rodney with a mild glare. "Play nice."

"This is the third cliff we've had to scale in as many hours," Rodney's outrage continued unabated. "You'd think there'd be a road we could use that avoided the deep gorges."

"There is," Jadaan snapped. "It's widely used by Romal's men. Maybe if you ask nicely, they'll take you to your friend Radek instead of killing you on the spot."

"I fail to see how plunging to my death is a preferable alternative," Rodney retorted petulantly.

"And this is the reason I wanted to leave the children at home," John glared at Rodney.

"Your suicide mission was a stupid plan," Rodney grunted, heaving himself over the edge of the ravine. He collapsed on his back and stared up at the sky, willing his heart to stop heaving against the walls of his chest. Sweat poured from his brow.

"This plan's not much better," John snapped back.

"At least it has a one percent chance of success rather than none," Rodney rolled over, glowering at his friend. "Jadaan can get us onto Romal's lands, and I'll be there to save your ass like I have so many times before."

John resisted the urge to roll his eyes and turned instead to Jadaan. The boy was covering their tracks by spraying the dirt with a solution John thought was pretty close to pepper spray. Supposedly it confused the keen noses of the Bessah.

"How much further?" He asked the boy. Jadaan had joined them despite the fervent protests of his sister. The teenager had been insistent, exacting one thing in return for his assistance. That when John and his team made it off the planet, that they take Jadaan's family with them. It was a promise John had no problem making. That was, if any of them made it back to Atlantis.

"We're almost there," Jadaan replied, placing the canister of pepper spray back into his knapsack. "We'll need to be quiet from here on out," he added, glaring at Rodney. "The path we're taking leads to the stables. From there a tunnel leads to the castle. It's guarded by two Bessah, Romal doesn't believe anyone can get past his beasts." He glanced over at John. "We'll need to kill them quickly and quietly."

"Wait a second," John stopped the boy as he began leading them through the trees. "You know, something's been bugging me. Just how do you know so much about Romal's castle? That tunnel can't be common knowledge or it wouldn't be so lightly guarded."

"I wouldn't underestimate the Bessah," Jadaan protested. But his face colored and he stared at the ground, scuffing the dirt with his feet.

John simply stared at the boy, something niggling at the back of his mind. "Your sister has one of the strongest expressions of the Ancient gene I've ever seen."

"Fine," Jadaan squirmed uncomfortably. "We grew up there, okay? Romal's our uncle. Our mother's brother. He killed his own family because they wouldn't bow down to him."

"And you came with us because you're going to kill him?" John asked softly.

"If it's the last thing I do, the deaths of my parents will be avenged." Jadaan turned and walked away.

"Dammit," John muttered, scrambling to keep up with the boy. "These things never end well."

He exchanged a look with Rodney and knew his promise to Jahmela to bring Jadaan home safe just got that much harder to keep.

* * *

Samyrah gently wiped the man's face with a damp cloth. He shivered even though his skin was warm to the touch. His lips moved soundlessly, his eyelids fluttering restlessly. Carefully she exposed the injured man's back. Her hands trembled as she cleaned the vicious wounds with the cloth. The man hissed a breath but didn't wake. Every so often he whispered a word: Atlantis. Tears sprang to her eyes. Atlantis. The Ancient Blood. It was the root of her brother's insanity. And she was trapped by it.

"I won't betray you, Atlantis," Radek muttered, mumbles finally turning into coherent words.

Samyrah realized with some shock that he was staring at her. His eyes soft with adoration.

"I'll never tell him." Radek shook his head. "Never. He'll never see your spires, or your great halls, all the treasures you hold." Radek suddenly chuckled, his lips curling into a satisfied smile. "If he tries to pass your gates, he'll get squished like a bug." He began to laugh then, his voice breaking into a singsong. "Sometimes you're the windshield, sometimes you're the bug." Radek giggled again. "Romal is the bug. Most definitely the bug. Squish." Laughter bubbled hysterically from the man's throat, quickly devolving into tears.

Samyrah laid her hand upon the man's brow. Quietly she shushed him, cooing at him as she'd done countless times to soothe her children. The tears stopped and his eyes closed. She sighed heavily. She feared the man was beyond her help. And as soon as Romal knew that Radek had nothing left to offer him, her brother would kill him.

"So Samyrah," An oily voice sounded from behind her. "Will your children live to see another day?"

"He is taken with fever," Samyrah bit out, refusing to look at her brother as she once again ran the cool cloth over Radek's face. "He won't be able to tell me anything until it breaks."

"And the girl?" Romal jerked his head towards the opposite cell.

"Unable to speak." Samyrah finally stood and faced her brother. It took all her control to keep her voice from trembling. She'd learned long ago how lethal her brother could be when provoked. "It would help if you'd allow me to take them upstairs. Keeping them in the dungeon only exacerbates their fear."

Samyrah pressed on when Romal's eyes grew thoughtful. "What can it hurt? The entire castle is a prison. There's no escape." She clenched her fists, knowing she had utterly failed at keeping the bitterness from her voice.

"I suppose," Romal rocked back on his heels, carefully studying his older sister. His eyes narrowed. "Just remember if you fail, nothing will save your children. They'll end up like your husband, with their heads on spikes." Romal smiled, taking cruel pleasure at the wave of despair that passed over his sister's face. "Don't take too long, dear sister. My patience wears thin." With that, he swept imperiously from the dungeon.

Samyrah slumped against the cold stone wall. Helplessness gripped her.

"The bug," Radek sang from his corner of the cell. "Sometimes you're the bug."

Samyrah moved back to her patient, kneeling down beside him.

"Sometimes you're the bug. Sometimes you're the bug. Sometimes you're the bug," Radek sang.

"Squish," Samyrah answered softly.

"Squish." Radek clapped his hands together and nodded triumphantly.

Samyrah felt cold hope reach inside her. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way out.

* * *

"Do you know how to use this?" Jadaan asked John as he handed the older man the crossbow.

"I think I can figure it out," John replied, taking the weapon from the boy.

"You miss, you won't get a second chance," Jadaan warned.

"I won't miss." John fingered the weapon, sliding the crossbow bolt into place. "Where does this tunnel lead?"

"To the peasant quarters. Your people are most likely being kept in the dungeon. Those are in the lower levels on the opposite side of the castle." Jadaan leveled his crossbow at the ground. "I'll help you get your people out, and then I'm going after my dear uncle."

"Revenge is never that sweet, but it's often hollow," John said softly. "He could die a hundred deaths and it won't ever bring your parents back."

"I don't care," Jadaan spat bitterly. His hands trembled on the crossbow. He glared at John. "Are you coming or not?"

"I'm coming," John gripped the bow, leaning down to help the teenager lift the trap door to the tunnels. He turned to Rodney. "Wait here. I'll radio when it's all clear."

"You better," Rodney grumbled. It was as close as Rodney was going to get to telling the colonel to be careful.

Lithely John jumped down into the tunnel, bringing the crossbow up in front of him. Cautiously he and Jadaan started down the darkened tunnel. He clicked the flashlight on his P-90. It was risky: the light announced his presence to anyone else in the tunnel. But he figured no man would be down here with the Bessah roaming loose, and the cat things would smell him long before they saw the light.

He heard the big cat before he saw it. A purring growl was the only warning he got as the cat leapt. Instinctually, John aimed, loosing the bolt from the bow. The bolt cut cleanly through the air, landing with a wet thunk as it hit the cat square in the chest. The cat fell heavily to the dirt. John wiped sweat from his brow. Jadaan was right. He never would have gotten off a second shot.

A snarling whine preceded a second loud thud from behind him. And then all was quiet. John glanced at Jadaan for confirmation.

"There's just the two of them," the boy nodded.

John tapped his radio. "All clear, Rodney. Come on down."

"Are you sure?" Rodney's voice was nervous. "What if you didn't get them all?"

"Get down here, Rodney." John cut the connection. He motioned to Jadaan. "Lead on."

Rodney landed on the dirt floor with a pained grunt, his eyes darting nervously. He gripped his P-90, clicking on the light as John had.

John slid another bolt into the crossbow and then followed Jadaan into the murky bowels of the tunnel.

TBC.


	22. Chapter 22

As always, thanks for the alerts and reviews. They are truly appreciated!

And for my awesome beta Rink Rat, continued thanks for the time and effort you put into editing this story!

Chapter 22

Wearily, Elizabeth leaned back in her chair. The cursor on the computer screen blinked mockingly at her. She rested her head in her hands, rubbing her forehead in an attempt to ease the pounding headache that had taken up permanent residence several days ago. She owed Stargate Command a report; it was already two days overdue. But every time she set her fingers over the keyboard, she froze, unable to put in writing the horrible truth: that she had lost her Military Commander, his second in command, and the top two scientists on the Atlantis expedition. All told, fourteen members of the expedition were missing. And then there were the dead. She thought of Lt. Haversham and the other Atlantis personnel who were slowly making their way back to Earth in body bags and her headache spiked. With a heavy sigh she massaged her throbbing temples. There was no way to sugarcoat the truth. The mission to M66 P39 was a colossal disaster.

"Are you okay, Elizabeth?" A Scottish brogue interrupted her thoughts.

Elizabeth looked up to see the doctor leaning against the door frame to her office. She motioned him inside and he took a chair in front of her desk.

"I'm fine, Carson," she attempted a smile.

"I beg to differ, lass," the doctor peered at her critically, his blue eyes piercing through any façade she thought she was maintaining. "I can see you're suffering from a headache. You're not eating, not sleeping; in no way do any of those things indicate you're fine."

"I have to write this report," Elizabeth said lamely.

"No," Carson shook his head firmly. "What you need is some food and some rest. Let me put this in terms even Colonel Sheppard could understand. If you don't eat something now, I'll admit you to the infirmary and administer nutrients through an I.V. And regardless of whether or not you choose to get your food in liquid form, you will take a sedative I'm prescribing and sleep for the next 8 hours."

"This report," Elizabeth sighed heavily, waving a hand at her tablet. "It's already overdue."

"Then it can wait another day." Carson hesitated before leaning forward. "I've been thinking about something. What if we could at least figure out who's still alive over there and where they are?"

"What do you have in mind, Carson?" Elizabeth leaned forward in her seat.

"What if we could program one of the aerial A/V's to search specifically for the subcutaneous transmitters of Colonel Sheppard, his team, Radek and the others?" Carson tapped his finger thoughtfully on the desk.

"Our last intel from the planet showed heavy fighting near the gate. If we find them, I can't send any more teams through unless I know they have at least a chance of coming back safely," Elizabeth warned.

"Aye, Elizabeth," Carson sighed. "But at least we'd know…" his voice trailed off.

"If they're dead?" Elizabeth finished the thought. A rush of heat swept through her chest causing her heart to pound heavily in her ears. She closed her eyes against of a wave of dizziness. She couldn't bear to think that they were dead. She couldn't bear to think of Atlantis without John or Teyla, Ronon or Rodney. In some weird way it was better not knowing…at least she could still hope.

"Are you all right Elizabeth?" Carson asked worriedly.

She shook her head, attempted a half smile and tried to keep her voice from trembling. "Let's do it. Maybe the situation there has changed…" She blinked back tears. "Can you take care of it?"

Carson nodded. He reached across the desk and squeezed Elizabeth's fingers. "I think it's time you take that sedative. And maybe some Ibuprofen for the headache?"

"All right," Elizabeth finally conceded, slumping in her chair.

"I'll have some food sent to your quarters as well," Carson reached into his pocket and pulled out two bubble packs. "Food first, then these, got it?"

"Okay" Elizabeth nodded. "But you wake me if we get any news."

"Promise," Carson crossed his fingers behind his back. He'd only wake her if the news was good. If it was bad, she needed all the rest she could get.

After calling down to the cafeteria and walking Elizabeth to her door, he trotted up to the science department. At least now they had a plan. And until he heard otherwise, he'd continue to hope the Colonel and his team showed their usual resilience and made it home as they had so many times before.

* * *

Radek shifted slightly. He burrowed his face into the soft pillow and snuggled deeper into the bedcovers. Vague memories of fear and pain twisted just slightly at the edges of his mind. Remnants of a dream, maybe a nightmare, from which he was finally waking. It had to be. The images couldn't be real. But a niggling doubt rippled through him. It whispered of screams and rage and helplessness. More and more memories nipped at him, unrelenting, memories of blood and death. They wouldn't let him slip back into the darkness of oblivion. Then his body joined in, pain flaring in every muscle, sparks of fire biting at his chest and back, forcing him to the surface. Oh bůh, he hurt. He moaned, reluctantly opening his eyes. He stared at the room in utter confusion. It didn't compute with his memories of that cold dank prison cell. This room was richly decorated, filled with bright fabrics and beautiful furniture.

"You're awake."

He turned his head towards the melodic voice and again memory swirled in his mind, images of the gleaming spires of Atlantis and a feeling of peace.

"How are you feeling?" The woman sat down on the edge of the bed, placing her soft hand on Radek's forehead.

She was beautiful, Radek thought. Her dark hair swung freely around a heart shaped face. Her lips ruby red, eyes the color of dusky night. Her fingers were long and slender and the clothing she wore made her look like a queen.

"Am I dead?" Radek finally managed to ask.

The woman laughed, but there was no humor in it, only a deep sadness. "Not yet, I'm afraid."

"Why?" Radek asked, hopelessness assailing him.

"Romal wants something from you," the woman answered. "And you need to give it to him."

"Never!" Radek tried to sit up, gasping in pain as he did so. "You can both go to hell." A shiver swept over his body and he felt his face break out in sweat. He fell limply back against the pillows.

"I am not your enemy," the woman spoke softly even as she wrung out a damp cloth and gently wiped his face.

"You work for that monster," Radek said bitterly.

"I don't have any choice," the woman responded fiercely.

"There is always choice," Radek snapped back. "To do good or evil. You have choice."

"We don't have much time," the woman said urgently, ignoring her patient's tirade. She glanced towards the door and then, seemingly satisfied they weren't about to be interrupted, turned back to Radek and said, "My name is Samyrah. I am a prisoner in this house as much as you are, but there's a way out. Romal wants something from you: a code. You are the only one who can give it to him."

"The only one…" Radek's voice trailed off, and he squeezed his eyes shut as the implication of Samyrah's words sank in. "What happened to Lola?"

"She's alive," Samyrah said gravely. "But she's lost to us. Her mind has slipped away and it won't be long before her body follows."

"Romal může klidně shnít v pekle," Radek clutched the blanket in his fists.

"You don't understand. I want to help you. This code: it means your ring is protected?" Samyrah continued hurriedly. "Anyone who tries to enter without the proper code gets…squished? That's the word you said over and over in your delirium. It would be like a bird flying into a window?"

"Yes, exactly like that," Radek confirmed cautiously, finally getting an inkling of where his dark eyed nurse was heading.

Samyrah took Radek's hand and squeezed it. "You need to give him the code. The wrong code. And when he walks through…"

"He dies," Radek finished the thought.

"You must know," Samyrah said softly. "When he goes through the ring, he'll take us with him."

Radek leaned back against his pillows, closed his eyes and nodded. It would be a good death.

* * *

Teyla set the cup of hot tea down in front of the exhausted girl. Jahmela had been up late into the night caring for Lorne. Ronon was healing nicely, although he had yet to stay awake for more than a few moments at a time, a side effect of the medicines the young healer was using to treat the poison. Lorne however, weakened by the head wound, was not responding as well to the treatment and the poison was slowly taking hold in his body. A fever had gripped him and would not let go.

Jahmela took the cup and drank deeply, letting her tired shoulders sag. She set the cup down and looked at Teyla, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I wish my mother was here. She would know what to do."

"It seems to me that you're doing all you can," Teyla assured the girl sadly.

"Major Lorne may not make it, Teyla," Jahmila said, her voice throaty with exhaustion. "I'm sorry."

"I know," Teyla replied simply. She reached across the table and took the girl's hand, squeezing it gently in her own. "It will pain me deeply if Major Lorne does not survive, but his death is not your burden to bear."

Teyla sighed. She saw much of herself in this young girl. Heavy burdens had been thrust upon Jahmela at a very young age. The care and safety of her family rested upon her thin shoulders and despite the fact the girl had faced those challenges with courage and strength, the toll on her was great.

"Do you think they're okay?" Jahmela asked, her fingers gripping Teyla's.

"Colonel Sheppard would give his life to protect your brother." Teyla said gravely. "If it is within his means to do so, he will bring Jadaan safely home."

"I never wanted Jadaan to ever go back there," Jahmela whispered. "It cost our parents their lives to get us out."

"You were…prisoners?" Teyla questioned gently.

"In a manner of speaking," Jahmela answered bitterly. "We were used as hostages to keep our mother in line."

"Jahmela," Teyla hesitated. "Who is Romal to you?"

Jahmela raised her head, her eyes boring a hole in the opposite wall until she finally turned to Teyla and said, "He's our uncle. From the beginning my mother objected to the purges. Had she gone to King Duncan and alerted him to what was happening, he would have stepped in and removed Romal from power. Uncle Romal used us to buy our mother's silence."

"Did no one else try to tell King Duncan what was happening?" Teyla asked quietly.

"They tried, but Uncle Romal was always very good at covering his tracks." Jahmela said darkly, "He denied those allegations. And because of us…well…our mother denied them too. There was not enough evidence for King Duncan to take action against Romal."

"And what happened to change all that?" Teyla asked curiously.

Jahmela sighed and took a sip of her tea. She sat there for several moments, holding the cup and staring deeply into the amber liquid. Finally she set the cup down. "My father." She smiled sadly at the remembrance. "His name was Erik. He was of The Blood, but he held no prejudice for those who weren't. The purges made him so angry." The girl sighed, somehow looking even younger in that moment than her eighteen years. "Our mother made him so angry. My father wanted her to defy Romal, to tell King Duncan everything. That's when Father began to plan our escape. It's when he began to work with the rebels. It's when everything went wrong."

The girl fell into silence, traced one finger around the edge of the tea cup while she fought to quiet the trembling of her lips.

"Your father was very brave," Teyla said softly, giving the girl some time to collect herself. "But your mother was in a terrible situation. I can understand that her only concern would be for her children."

Jahmela nodded, tightening her slender fingers around the tea cup. She looked up at Teyla and continued. "My father's plan was simple. Several of the household staff belonged to the rebel movement. With their help, our family was to sneak out in the middle of the night, using the tunnels to the stable. There, horses would be waiting and we were to make our way north.

"Once we were out of the castle, the rebels planned to attack and overthrow Romal. When Romal was gone, Mother was to return with Father by her side to take over the ducal responsibilities." Jahmela gripped the cup, her eyes darkening. "But my parents never made it out of the castle."

"If this is too difficult…" Teyla interceded gently.

But the dark haired girl shook her head, refusing to let her tears spill over her pale cheeks. "I don't know how he found out, but as we were entering the tunnels, suddenly Romal was there. Father yelled at us to run, but I couldn't move. I stood there, frozen, and I saw Father pull his knife and plunge it into Romal's chest. Only…" A small sob escaped the girl's throat. "He didn't die. The blade didn't touch him. It simply skittered away. And then…then...Romal laughed." Jahmela swallowed hard.

Lost in her memories, the teenager began to shake, her eyes distant, dilated with fear. Her breath came in short gasps. "Romal grabbed the knife from my father and he…" Jahmela groaned, finally losing her struggle to maintain her composure. Sobs ripped through her thin frame. "He was still laughing when he killed him. I'll never forget that sound."

Teyla, her own eyes wet with tears, stood up and went to the girl, putting her arms around Jahmela's trembling shoulders. She held her until the sobs finally quieted. Jahmela settled her face against Teyla's shoulder, allowing herself to be comforted by the older woman. Too familiar with the ravages of grief, Teyla simply rubbed circles on the girl's back until she felt Jahmela's body finally relax.

Jahmela nodded, loosening herself from Teyla's arms. She wiped away her tears and continued her story, her voice a husky monotone. "Chester and Imelda, the household staff helping us to escape, had already sent the other children into the tunnels. When Father died, Mother began to scream. Chester grabbed her and pushed her into the tunnel. Imelda grabbed my arm and pulled me after them. I didn't stop to think why Romal didn't follow. But when the Bessah attacked…I knew."

Jahmela looked at Teyla, her eyes a void. "The four of us children ran. Mother, Chester, Imelda: they didn't follow. We left them behind, the Bessah took them and they died."

Teyla gripped the girl's upper arm, squeezing hard. "If you'd stayed, you'd have all died. Your mother gave her life to protect her children."

"Jadaan is going to try and kill Romal," Jahmela clenched her hands into fists. "But he can't. No one can. The Prophecy is right. He's protected by the Ancestors; he's immortal."

Teyla pursed her lips, musing over the girl's story, remembering a story of her own. "Jahmela, did Romal wear a device on his chest?"

"A device?" Jahmela asked, puzzled.

"Maybe it would have looked like a piece of jewelry?" Teyla tried again.

"He wears an emerald ducal jewel around his neck," Jahmela remembered.

Teyla bit her lip. What Romal wore was no simple necklace, she was sure of it. It had to be a personal shield. For all intents and purposes, it made the man untouchable and therefore one of the most dangerous adversaries John had ever gone up against. She looked out the window at the rising sun and wondered how John and Rodney were faring. Then she offered a silent prayer to the Ancestors that her friends would be all right.

TBC


	23. Chapter 23

Thank you for the alerts and reviews! I always appreciate them.

And to Rink, my beta. You're the best!

Chapter 23

After killing the two Bessah guarding the tunnel, John, Rodney and Jadaan had quickly made their way into the castle. Using the LSD, they managed to keep their presence hidden as Jadaan led them down winding corridors towards the lower levels and the dungeon where John figured his people were being held. They cautiously came to a halt at the sounds of loud voices up ahead.

"It's the kitchens. We need to go around," Jadaan whispered, motioning to another corridor on the left.

The boy hesitated outside a set of double doors. His palm touched the door handle, but he didn't turn it.

John lightly touched Jadaan's shoulder. He whispered, "What's wrong?"

Jadaan looked up at John, his eyes full of anguish. "These were my family's living quarters."

Time was of the essence, and John couldn't afford to have Jadaan distracted by his memories and his grief. "We'll go another way."

Jadaan tightly gripped the door handle. "No. This way is the quickest. There's a back door that's not far from the entrance to the cellars. We can get to the dungeon from there."

"If we're going in there we need to go now," Rodney snapped, glancing nervously at his LSD. "And I'm not even going to ask why you seem to know a dozen ways to get into the dungeons."

"Rodney," John glared warningly at his friend.

"No," Jadaan nodded at Rodney. "He's right. We can't stay here. And as for the dungeons…" he fixed Rodney with a withering stare. "When I was a boy they held a certain fascination."

"Of course they did," Rodney muttered under his breath, clamping his mouth shut when John poked him in the shoulder.

Taking a deep breath, Jadaan pushed open the doors revealing what looked like a hotel suite. A living room lined with bookshelves, couches, tables and chairs opened into a suite of bedrooms at the back. John quietly closed the doors behind them.

Rodney glanced down at the LSD, his eyes widening in alarm. "We got bogeys," Rodney whispered frantically.

"Bogeys?" John mouthed at the scientist, arching an eyebrow, his body going on alert.

Rodney shrugged lamely at his word choice as John put his hand on Jadaan's shoulder, pulling him up short.

He peered over Rodney's shoulder at the LSD screen and saw three life signs. Two were in the bedrooms and one was coming from a room to their right.

"Why didn't we see these from outside?" John whispered harshly, stabbing his finger towards the LSD.

"I don't know," Rodney shook his head in confusion. "Maybe the rooms are shielded?"

It was at that moment they heard the singing. An alto voice that managed to sound both mournful and joyful at the same time. Jadaan tensed and broke free of John's restraining hand.

John swore softly as the boy dashed across the room, straight towards the sound of the voice.

"What the hell is he doing?" Rodney gasped as Jadaan skidded to a stop in a doorway

John tightened his grip on his P-90, exchanging a worried look with Rodney. Whoever Jadaan had just revealed himself to could blow their entire plan.

The singing stopped mid-note. Then, a strangled cry followed by a sob.

When John reached the doorway to the little room filled with dried herbs, kettles and pearly little jars, he saw a beautiful dark haired woman with her arms wrapped tightly around Jadaan. Tears streamed down her face. She murmured something over and over and it took a moment for John to realize that the words she was repeating were "my son."

"What are you doing here, Jadaan?" the woman practically shook the boy's shoulders. "Why would you come back?"

"We thought you were dead," Jadaan gasped, tears in his eyes. "I came to avenge you. You and Father."

John warily gripped his P-90 and stepped into the room, Rodney at his back.

"You shouldn't be here," Jadaan's mother said fiercely to him, her eyes widening when she saw John.

"I'm afraid that's my fault, ma'am." The ease in John's voice belied the tension in his body. "Romal abducted five members of my team. We've come to rescue them. Jadaan agreed to be our guide." He held out his hand. "I'm Lt. Col. John Sheppard and this is Rodney McKay."

"I'm Samyrah, Jadaan's mother," the woman replied, her eyes darkening with sorrow. "I have been caring for your people, but only two remain alive: A man named Radek and a woman named Lola."

John's mouth set in a thin line. He nodded, his eyes hardening with determination. "We're leaving. Now. You're welcome to come with us. I can take you to the rest of your children. You should know that in return for Jadaan's help, I've offered your family sanctuary on another planet."

"If we make it back," Rodney muttered. His hands fidgeted, his eyes darting around nervously. "Where are Radek and Lola?"

"They are back this way," Samyrah led them towards the bedrooms. She pointed out their rooms and Rodney darted immediately into Radek's. She turned to John. "Radek should be okay to travel, but Lola…" She sighed as she led John into Lola's room. "You can see for yourself."

John felt anger rip through his gut. He remembered Lola Varanskaya as a bubbly and vivacious woman, high energy and whip smart. What he saw lying in that bed was a shell. Lola stared wide eyed at the ceiling, her face a mask of despair. Slowly John knelt down next to her, careful not to startle her. It didn't matter; she didn't register his presence.

"Lola," he said softly, lightly patting her cheek. "It's time to get up now." Gently he pulled the covers off and eased his arm under her shoulders, pulling her up against him.

"Come on Lola, wakey wakey," he crooned. "It's Colonel Sheppard. Can you hear me?" He grimaced, his stomach still tender, as he slid his other arm under her legs and lifted her up off the bed. "You gotta help me out here, Lola. We're going home, but I'm not exactly in the best shape to carry you all the way. If I turn Rodney into a pack mule for you I'll never hear the end of it. Help me out, would you?"

"Colonel Sheppard, keep talking to her," Samyrah said excitedly. "She's reacting to your voice."

"Come on, Lola," John cajoled. "Do you really want Rodney holding it over your head that he carried you all the way back to Atlantis? He's insufferable enough. You'll have to let him beat you at chess, bring him his coffee in the morning, and let him have your serving of apple pie just to stop the whining."

Lola blinked, shifting slightly in John's arms. "Colonel Sheppard?" she whispered, staring up at the military commander as if she could hardly believe her eyes. "Is that really you?"

"Yes, ma'am," John smiled down at her. "Are you ready to go home?"

Lola sobbed and threw her arms around John's shoulders.

"I'll take that as a yes," John grunted, carrying Lola out of the room and into the hallway. Carefully he set her down on her feet. "Can you walk?"

"I think so," Lola nodded gamely.

Rodney had already brought Radek out of the other room and John did a quick head count. All present and accounted for. Without warning, Radek launched himself at John, gripping him in a bear hug. John stiffened, clumsily patting at the other man's back.

"Thank you, Colonel Sheppard." Radek said, his voice muffled, his body shaking. "Děkuji." Radek finally stepped back, unabashedly wiping tears from his eyes. "I didn't think…I thought no one was coming for us."

"Got here as soon as we could, Radek," John said huskily. "The others…they're dead?"

"Yes," Radek's voice filled with anguish and he angrily swiped at the tears on his cheeks. "That bastard. He killed them. I saw him…" His lips trembling with emotion, Radek stopped, unable to continue.

Silently John gripped the scientist's shoulder, catching and holding the distraught man's gaze until Radek nodded, purpose and determination replacing the grief in his eyes.

"Might I remind everyone that we still have to get out?" Rodney said acidly. "So if you're done getting your hugs on, maybe we can go home now."

Unable to hold back a slight chuckle, Radek said, "Yes, Rodney, I think we're ready to leave now."

"Fantastic," Rodney muttered, refusing to look up at his friend, focusing on the LSD screen instead.

"I missed you too, Rodney," Radek said softly. "I had…given up hope."

"Yeah, yeah," Rodney scowled, scuffing slightly at the floor. "Couldn't let you rot here. Too hard to find a second rate scientist of your caliber to replace you."

"All right," John interceded, rolling his eyes at the two scientists. "We're going back out the way we came in. Rodney, I need you to help Lola. Radek, you going to be okay?" At the scientist's firm nod, John twirled his finger in the air and pointed forward. "Let's go."

They made their way back to the tunnel without incident, the LSD helping them avoid being discovered. Rodney, Radek and Lola entered the tunnel first. Samyrah and Jadaan followed. John brought up the rear.

And that was when their luck ran out.

A dot lit up on the LSD, and it was coming right for them, as if whoever it was knew exactly where they were. John swore, bringing up his P-90. And then a large man wearing a gleaming emerald jewel around his neck was bearing down on them, flanked by two other men carrying swords.

"Rodney, get them out of there!" John yelled. He didn't look back; he knew Rodney would do as he was told.

John placed himself between the enraged duke and his team, his P-90 steady in his hands.

"You must be Romal," John gave the man who'd cold bloodedly murdered so many of his people a withering glare. "Wish I could say it's a pleasure."

"There's no escape," Romal's eyes glittered darkly. "The Prophecy has foretold the return of the Ancestors to this galaxy. I will rule. It is destiny. My sister and your friends won't get far."

"Blah blah blah," John muttered, his finger tightening on the trigger. "The galaxy says screw you."

"Disarm him," Romal ordered the two soldiers forward.

Before either soldier had taken a step, John dispatched them both, one bullet each to the head.

Romal smiled. "I have been blessed with the Sign. You cannot harm me." He shook his head at John as if he was chastising a child.

"Oh yeah?" John muttered. "We'll see."

Narrowing his eyes in determination, John fired point blank at Romal. A shimmery force field stayed the path of the bullet and it fell harmless to the floor. John bit his lip and swore.

"Nice personal shield you have there," John quipped. "I used to have one myself. Where'd you get yours?"

"It's my destiny!" Romal drew himself up to his full height. "The Ancestors have deemed me worthy and protect me from all harm."

"The Ancients don't know squat." John growled. "They left this galaxy 10,000 years ago and they ain't never coming back."

"Blasphemer!" Romal howled.

"Idiot," John snarled, flipping the P-90 to full automatic and squeezing the trigger. He pumped round after round into Romal's personal shield. With any luck, the shield would run out of power before he ran out of bullets. Bullet after bullet hit the shield and John knew it wasn't going to be enough. Cursing, he went to Plan B. He had one thing left in his arsenal that might work. The magazine empty, John threw the gun to the floor and pulled his last sticks of C4 from his tac vest pocket. He stabbed the charges into them and slapped them against a low support beam in the ceiling.

"Fire in the hole," he yelled, diving into the tunnel as the room exploded.

Then everything went black.

TBC


	24. Chapter 24

Almost to the end now…thanks as ever for the alerts and reviews.

And huge thanks, as always, to my awesome beta, Rink.

Chapter 24

Dr. Carson Beckett stood behind Chuck in the Control Room and fought the overwhelming urge to bite his nails. Hope was nipping at his heels, and he was doing his best to tamp it down, to not get overexcited. The first images from the A/V had painted quite a different picture from what they'd seen before. The fighting had died down; it appeared that King Duncan had forced Romal's army back over the border. They would need to wait to see if Duncan was pushing into Romal's lands, essentially clearing the way for their own rescue teams, but the tide of war had definitely changed and it meant the odds of a successful rescue mission were getting better and better.

But that was where hope stalled. The aerial A/V had begun its search for the subcutaneous transmitters of the fourteen missing expedition members three hours ago. Dimitri Yurovich had programmed in a search grid pattern and now it was simply a waiting game. This was the second time Chuck had dialed the gate in order to download data from the A/V and he would open the gate in periodic intervals from here on out until they found something.

So far they'd found nothing. Carson hoped that since the search pattern was now widening far beyond the vicinity of the gate the next few hours might give them something useful and something positive to tell Elizabeth when she came back on duty.

"Find anything?" Elizabeth's anxious voice sounded from behind them.

"Not yet," Carson said, frowning slightly at the expedition leader. "I'm pretty sure you have two hours left on your naptime Elizabeth."

"Couldn't sleep," Elizabeth admitted tiredly.

"Even with the sleeping pills I gave you?" Carson arched an eyebrow at Elizabeth.

Guiltily Elizabeth tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and turned towards Chuck, peering at the monitor. "So, how does this work exactly?"

"Ye didn't take them, did ye?" Carson frowned, eyeing the expedition leader critically. "You're not going to help anyone if ye collapse from exhaustion, Elizabeth."

"I'm fine, Carson," Elizabeth turned to face the concerned doctor. "I had a little to eat, and I got a little sleep, enough to keep me going until we bring our people home." She arched an eyebrow back at Carson. "And might I say, you don't look that much better than me."

Carson smiled in defeat. "Touché. I think we could both use a nice long vacation after this one."

"I got something!" Chuck broke in excitedly. "The A/V just picked up three transmitter signals in the southeastern quadrant of the grid."

"Just three?" Elizabeth's heart quickened and her hands clenched into fists. 

Chuck tapped a few keys and then looked up at Elizabeth. "Teyla, Ronon and Lorne." At her crestfallen look he quickly added. "The A/V's continuing its search grid. We'll find them, Dr. Weir." He paused, studying the console. "I'm also picking up some images." He glanced up at Elizabeth, breaking into a grin. "It looks like Romal's army has been routed. Do we have a go, Dr. Weir?"

Elizabeth smothered her distress and nodded. "Tell Sgt. Baker to gather a rescue team."

"Already done," Chuck smiled. "He's got three jumpers and three teams of Marines awaiting your command."

"They need a medical team," Carson interjected, holding up a hand to stay Elizabeth's order. "I'm going with them."

Elizabeth nodded, sorely tempted to join the rescue team as well. But it was not an option, so she sat back on her heels and resolved herself to another long wait. "Take Dr. Cole as well," she added.

"I'm going too," a soft voice sounded from behind them.

"Joanne!" Carson turned around in surprise.

"I need to do this," the pretty redhead said resolutely, carefully avoiding Carson's eye.

Elizabeth stopped Carson's rebuttal before it could start. "Go," she said to the nurse, nodding sympathetically.

"Elizabeth," Carson protested. "Decisions involving medical staff are mine to make, not yours."

"Carson," Elizabeth caught the doctor's eye and held it. "It's important to her."

"I'll start gathering the supplies," Joanne turned at a run.

"Carson," Elizabeth reached out, grabbing his arm. "Be careful. The Daedelus is still three days out."

"Aye," Carson nodded. He squeezed her hand reassuringly. "We'll bring them back. All of them."

Elizabeth swallowed hard and steadied herself against the control consol. There had to be a good reason John and Rodney weren't with the rest of their team. They had to be alive. She wouldn't let herself think otherwise.

Rodney had just finished helping first Lola and then Radek out of the tunnel when an explosion shook the ground beneath their feet sending up a large plume of dust into the sky.

"What was that?" Jadaan asked anxiously, his arm around his mother's waist.

"Sheppard," Rodney gasped, his face paling. "Can't he go one day without blowing something up?"

"Rodney, the tunnel is collapsing," Radek said urgently, pointing to where the dirt was visibly churning as the long stretch of tunnel began to implode.

"Sheppard's down there," Rodney frantically scrambled for his LSD. "That stupid idiot blew himself up!"

"We have to go back for him," Radek said urgently.

"Yes yes yes I know," Rodney spared a glance at Jadaan and Lola. "Jadaan, I need you to take Lola and Radek back to Teyla."

"I'm staying with you Rodney," Radek shook his head vigorously. "You can't do this alone."

"Radek I don't have time to argue," Rodney spared a glance at the other scientist.

"We don't leave our people behind," Radek said softly, his voice firm. "I'm staying."

"Fine," Rodney snapped. "Just don't get in my way by passing out from your injuries."

"I'm fine, Rodney," Radek gave Samyrah a soft smile. "I was well cared for."

"Be careful, both of you," Lola said, her eyes filling with tears. "Find Colonel Sheppard."

"That's the plan," Rodney waved goodbye, already moving down the path of the collapsing tunnel, the LSD held in front of him.

"Be careful Rodney, the ground is very unstable," Radek called out.

"Thank you for telling me something I don't already know," Rodney said snippily. Gingerly, he walked further and further back towards the castle, his heart sinking with every step. Men and women were spilling out of the remains of the castle, milling around in confusion. Some time ago Rodney had programmed the subcutaneous transmitter signals into the LSD's. Rodney stabbed his finger into the LSD controls, but the screen remained stubbornly blank of the one signal he was looking for.

"Well?" Radek asked impatiently, trying to peer at the screen. "Where is Colonel Sheppard?"

"I don't know," Rodney stared at Radek in disbelief. "I think." He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. "I think he might be dead."

Teyla held the tea cup in her hands and gently rocked back and forth on the porch swing. The forest was beautiful, reminding her of home. She wasn't used to this kind of inactivity, this waiting, and it was getting to her. She was antsy; her very bones pulsed with the need to move.

"Hey."

She turned at the sound of Ronon's gruff voice.

"Hey," she responded as he took a seat beside her on the swing. "Should you be out of bed?"

"Going crazy in there." Ronon scowled. "I should be with Sheppard."

"You're injured," Teyla reminded him. "You were in no shape to go with them."

"We need a plan," Ronon winced as he shifted his position on the swing. The wounds on his chest pulled painfully and he tired easily. He hated it. His friends had walked straight into danger and he wasn't there to back them up.

"Major Lorne is unable to travel," Teyla placed a hand on Ronon's leg. "Until he is well enough we have no choice but to stay here."

"I'm going after Sheppard," Ronon said.

"You wouldn't even make it as far as the tree line," Teyla glanced at him knowingly. "Even now, you are fighting your fatigue. You won't be of any use to him in your condition."

"I'll make it," Ronon said, his voice hard with determination.

Before Teyla had a chance to respond her radio squawked with static and then burst into life.

"_Major Lorne, Teyle, Ronon, please respond."_

Teyla's eyes grew wide and she grabbed for the radio, hitting the talk button. "This is Teyla. Go ahead."

"_Teyla. It's Sgt. Baker. We're about one click from your position. We had to find a clearing big enough to park the jumpers. What's your situation?"_

"Ronon and Major Lorne are both injured and in need of medical attention. Colonel Sheppard and Rodney left for Romal's castle yesterday to try and extract Radek and the others," Teyla reported.

"_Hang tight. We have a medical team coming to you and I'm sending the other two jumpers after the Colonel."_

"Be careful. We were shot down by drones fired from the castle," Teyla warned.

"_Romal has bigger problems right now. His army's in a shambles and Duncan's forces are bearing down on his castle. He doesn't have much time left."_

"That's good news," Teyla smiled at Ronon.

"I'll get my gear," Ronon got up from the swing, his legs wobbling slightly.

Teyla's smile slipped into a frown. "The only place you're going is the Atlantis infirmary."

Ronon leaned heavily against the porch railing. "I hate this."

"The jumpers have already left," Teyla said, disappointed that she would not be able to join the rescue party either. "All we can do is wait."

Teyla sighed, glancing anxiously at the tree line. Hang on John, she thought. Help is on the way.

John woozily shook his head and spit dirt. Something hard poked uncomfortably at his ribs. It was dark and he blinked blearily, trying to give his eyes time to get accustomed to the light, or lack thereof. As awareness slowly returned he realized he was lying face down on an Ancient control consol, one of its levers lodged in his ribcage. The consol pulsed with life; it glowed a brilliant blue, its humming so loud it made John's head throb. He tried to pull himself to a sitting position and gasped as pain lanced through his chest. He coughed, choking on the taste of grainy sand in his mouth and throat. He doubled over; losing his balance, he fell from the consol landing hard on his left shoulder, His cheek slammed into the cold stone floor.

He wheezed uncontrollably, desperately trying to suck in air even as every breath caused fiery pain to ripple across his aching ribs. When the coughing finally subsided, he realized three things: One, the force of the explosion had opened up the dirt floor of the tunnel and dropped him into a large cavernous room underneath. Two, the room was the largest Ancient Control Room he'd ever seen, and three, Romal was sitting with his back against the opposite wall staring at the room in open wonder. The emerald green protective shield still glowed faintly from the crazed leader's chest. John silently swore. He'd really hoped the blast from the C-4 would be enough to drain the shield of its power supply.

He struggled to an upright position, forcing himself to his feet. He staggered and lost his footing, lurching into the control panel. He grabbed one of the levers for support and it threw a HUD across the top of the room. John's heart fluttered as he stared at the images. The blast of C-4 had collapsed the tunnel along with the entire west wing of the castle. The only thing keeping the debris at bay was the control room's shielding. On the one hand it protected him from certain death. On the other, he was trapped with a psycho he couldn't kill.

Romal stared at John in shock. "You are of The Blood."

"I have the Ancient gene, yes," John leaned heavily against the control panel, forcing himself to breathe slowly. He had no idea how air was circulating down here, or how much there was left.

"Then you should understand," Romal stood up, picking his way carefully across the debris strewn stone floor towards the panel. "I have been blessed with the Sign. As it is said, as it is Prophesied, The Chosen One shall lead the Ancestors back to their rightful place in the galaxy."

"The Ancients got their butts kicked ten thousand years ago by the Wraith," John bit out, his voice withering, "They left this galaxy and they're not coming back. They don't know who you are; they don't care who you are; and they sure as hell didn't save your miserable ass."

"Unbeliever!" Romal's voice thundered through the room. "You are a betrayal to your Blood. The Hand of the Ancestors protects me. It is the Sign that I am the one chosen to lead our people back to glory."

"No," John corrected him, "you have a protective shield. I had one too for a while. Pretty cool little toy. Until it breaks." He desperately cast about the room. There had to be something here he could use to continue to pound at the shield's power source. His eyes lit up when he spied a storage cabinet across the room.

"You will die for this blasphemy," Romal promised, smiling cruelly.

John backed away from a deliberately advancing Romal. Way to go John, he cursed himself silently. He just had to poke the bear. He could do nothing to defend himself. He had no more C-4. He was out of bullets. If he attempted to meet Romal's blows with his own, he would only injure himself in the process. His only chance was to get to that supply cabinet and hope to hell the Ancients had left something of use behind.

As John backed away from him, the duke laughed triumphantly. "There's no where for you to go, disbeliever. You will die by my hands." Romal lunged, closing the distance between himself and John. Grabbing John by his vest, the large man hauled him across the room and threw him full force into the wall.

John's head hit the unrelenting stone with a loud crack. The breath whooshed from his body and he felt himself limply slide to the ground. His lungs fought for air, and his vision grayed. He forced himself to take slow deep breaths.

"You can kill me…" John rasped. "But you'll never…get to…Atlantis." Desperately he tried to force his body to respond to his commands. He had to get up. The cabinet was eight feet away. Romal had moved him closer to his goal, but he was still too far.

"I have the code," Romal crowed triumphantly. "And now this room will give me access once again to the weapons I need to grind Duncan into dust and claim what is rightfully mine."

John's head swam, his chest tightening sickeningly. Romal had the codes to Atlantis? No! John's mind screamed frantically. This monster must never be allowed near Elizabeth and the beautiful halls of Atlantis. He needed to get up. He needed to get up now.

He rolled over onto all fours, trying to force his boneless legs to carry his weight. Desperately, he began a long, agonizing crawl towards the cabinet.

Romal laughed derisively. "If you beg me, I'll make your death quick, nonbeliever."

"Screw you, Darth Vader wanna-be," John grunted, his only focus the cabinet now seven feet in front of him.

At that moment, Romal landed a vicious kick to John's ribcage, knocking John over onto his back.

Gasping for breath, John stared up at the giant hole in the ceiling. He'd felt something crack as Romal's boot connected with his chest and now he couldn't draw in enough air. Spots danced in front of his eyes and the hole in the ceiling appeared to get wider and wider, the darkness threatening to edge out all light. Dimly, he heard Romal's boots clacking on the stone floor, coming ever closer. John tried to curl himself into a protective ball, but Romal grabbed the top of John's vest, pulling the injured man to his feet. John panted, listing helplessly as the duke fisted the sides of his vest to keep John upright.

"Is that the best you got?" John panted. He was four feet from the cabinet and closing. He tried not to think about the possibility that after all this time the cabinet could contain nothing more than dust.

Romal smiled, slamming his knee viciously into John's midriff. John doubled over, lightheaded, barely clinging to consciousness. His heart pounded in his ears, so loud it threatened to deafen him. Every nerve in his body was on fire and he frantically sucked in shallow pants of air. He felt his chest crackling and tasted blood on his lips.

An uppercut to John's chin sent him spinning backwards, arms pinwheeling. He was brought up short by something cold and metal against his cheek. It took several precious breaths for him to realize Romal had thrown him into the very cabinet he was so desperate to reach. As he heard Romal stride towards him, he wrenched open the doors, forcing his eyes to focus on the contents inside. It took a moment for what he'd discovered to sink in.

"Jackpot," John whispered, his eyes wide in elation and disbelief. Shakily his fingers reached for precious objects. Not only had he found two stunner pistols, but he'd also found another protective shield. His fingers curled around the shield, activating it. He latched it to the front of his shirt just as Romal threw another kick into his back. Only this time instead of his boot connecting with muscle and sinew, it slammed into an immovable force. Shield met shield with sparks of green energy. John would have laughed at Romal's howl of surprise had it not hurt too much to do so. He gripped the pistols, one in each hand and sank to his haunches, attempting to catch his breath.

"I told you…it's a good toy," John wheezed, smiling jeeringly at his abuser.

John wasn't prepared for the effect his use of the shield would have on Romal. The man recoiled in horror and disbelief, his body shaking.

"How is this possible?" Romal whispered. "I am the Chosen One. I was given the Blessed Sign." He stumbled backward, tripping over a fallen beam to land on his backside.

Romal's shield flickered slightly. And it was then John began firing. Both pistols, over and over and over until finally Romal's shield stuttered for the last time, dissipating with a brilliant flash of green light. Romal slumped to the floor, unconscious.

John dropped the pistols to the ground, fighting to remain conscious himself. He breathed shallowly, unable to take a deep breath. He forced himself first to his hands and knees, and then used the cabinet to haul himself to his feet. He stumbled from fixture to fixture, each control consol lighting up at his touch. And then finally he saw them, the door controls. His right arm cradled protectively against his aching chest, he staggered forward. He palmed the door control, praying the doors hadn't been damaged over time. He groaned in relief when the doors smoothly swung open. Swaying with dizziness John swallowed against an intense roil of nausea building in his stomach. Using the wall for support, John followed the twisting corridor, focused only on one thing: getting home.

TBC


	25. Chapter 25

Thank you for the alerts and reviews. They really do mean so much. And Rink, thanks for the beta. I tinkered after she worked her magic, so all mistakes are mine!

Chapter 25

Elizabeth skidded to a stop outside the jumper bay. She'd run all the way up from the control room as soon as Teyla's IDC had been received. She stepped aside as the medical team Dr. Cole had requested pushed two gurneys loaded down with equipment into the bay. Her heart flipped in her chest. She knew Teyla, Ronon and Lorne were on the jumper now ascending into the bay. She had yet to hear any word about the fates of John and Rodney. For a moment, she sagged against the door frame as the back hatch of the jumper slowly lowered. If they were dead…if John was dead…Teyla would have said something over the radio. She repeated the reassurance to herself over and over.

Clenching her hands into fists, Elizabeth closed her eyes, steadied herself, and then pushed herself off the wall. She moved quickly towards the jumper. The med teams were loading Lorne onto a gurney. Dr. Cole had obviously already begun treatment in the jumper. Multiple IV lines had been established and a portable heart monitor hung from the side of the gurney. Dr. Cole worked urgently over the unconscious man.

"Is he going to be all right?" Elizabeth paused by the side of the gurney, briefly touching the injured major's arm. Lorne's face was ashen gray. An oxygen mask covered his mouth and nose, a bandage was wrapped around his head, another one had been applied to wounds on his chest.

"I don't know," Dr. Cole said tersely. "He has a head injury that's complicating the effects of a poison he received from these claw marks."

"Poison?" Elizabeth paled, remembering the terrible death of Lt. Haversham.

"He's been given the antidote. So has Ronon, for that matter. Both of them are very weak and in need of medical care." Dr. Cole took a moment to glower balefully towards the jumper.

Another med team was attempting to muscle Ronon onto the second gurney, and failing miserably. The Satedan stood just inside the back hatch, hanging into the supply webbing as if for dear life. Teyla stood next to him, her hand firmly on his elbow. Clearly the former runner was close to collapse.

"Take me back," Ronon growled. He stabbed a glare at Teyla. "We should be with the teams looking for Sheppard!"

"I got this," Elizabeth nodded at Dr. Cole. "Get Lorne to the infirmary. I'll make sure Ronon is right behind."

"Good luck," Dr. Cole shook her head. She motioned for her team to start moving Lorne out of the bay and to the infirmary.

Elizabeth took a deep breath, and then joined Teyla at Ronon's side. "Ronon, Teyla, it's good to see you."

"And you Elizabeth," Teyla smiled tiredly.

Ronon swayed. His fingers tightened around the webbing and beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. He bit his lip, and it seemed to Elizabeth that it took every ounce of Ronon's concentration just to remain conscious. Teyla tightened her grip on the big man's arm.

"Ronon, you are in no shape to help John right now," Teyla said firmly.

"He'd do it for us," Ronon snapped back.

"Exactly what can you do for him, Ronon?" Elizabeth stepped in. Coolly she stared him down. "You can't stand on your own two feet. Do you want to put John in more danger? Force him to ignore his own needs in order to protect you instead? Do you want to cost him his life this time?"

Ronon's eyes went dark with rage. Elizabeth forced herself not to flinch away. Futilely the Satedan howled, ripping his arm from Teyla and punching the side of the jumper with his fist. It happened so quickly, Teyla and the medic almost didn't react in time to prevent Ronon, his energy reserves completed depleted, from crashing to the floor. As gently as possible, they manhandled him onto the gurney.

Biting her lip in guilt, Elizabeth rushed to the injured man's side, gently squeezing his shoulder. "Is he going to be okay?" she asked the medic anxiously.

Before the medic could respond, a young female voice answered the question instead. "It takes time for the antidote to completely eradicate the poison. Any activity can allow the poison to once again take hold. Ronon needs complete bed rest. If he'd gone to try and help Colonel Sheppard, he would have surely died."

"Ma'am, we have to move," the medic interrupted apologetically.

Elizabeth nodded absently at the medic, giving Ronon's shoulder one final squeeze before he was rushed to the infirmary. She turned towards her unexpected visitors, arching an eyebrow at the pale young woman standing hesitantly in the hatch of the jumper. The girl's arms were protectively slung across the shoulders of two younger children. A little boy stared in wide eyed wonder at the jumper bay, his mouth agape. The other child, a girl, nervously clutched the older girl's hand.

Elizabeth glanced questioningly at Teyla. "Who do we have here?"

"Dr. Weir," Teyla smiled warmly, pointing to each child in turn. "Allow me to introduce you to Jahmela, Danika, and Wyck. It's a long story, but Jahmela saved Lorne and Ronon's lives. Their brother Jadaan went with John and Rodney to help rescue Radek and the other scientists. In return, John has promised their family sanctuary."

Elizabeth nodded, smiling at the children. "It does sound like we owe you a debt of gratitude." She glanced over at Teyla. "Can you take our visitors with you for your post mission check and then perhaps you can fill me in on the whole story."

"Of course, Dr. Weir," Teyla motioned for the children to follow her.

Elizabeth watched as Teyla led the children out of the jumper bay and then headed back to her office with a sigh. It was going to be another long day of waiting. But John was alive. John and Rodney were both alive. It was enough hope for her to hang on to.

* * *

Rodney sat on the dirt, not far from the center of the explosion, his head in his hands. He couldn't bear to watch them bring the body of his best friend out of the rubble. He'd done his best to hold on to hope, but the LSD's didn't lie. He supposed the transmitter could have been damaged, but the explosion had been devastating, bringing down half the castle. If John was alive, his transmitter would be active.

In the hours since the explosion, the situation at the castle had drastically changed. Duncan's army had moved in and assumed control. Between the chaos caused by the explosion and the absence of their leader, Romal's people hadn't put up much of a fight. They'd surrendered within an hour of Duncan's attack.

Rodney and Radak had watched from their hiding place in the trees, as close to the spot where they judged John's body must be as they could safely get. The decision had been unspoken between them. They would wait with their fallen friend until the Daedelus finally arrived; they would figure out how to retrieve John's body, and they would all leave this horrible planet.

But plans had changed when a jumper had swooped in, landing in full view. Carson, Joanne and a team of Marines had spilled out. As one of the Marines delivered a message to Duncan's general, Rodney and Radek broke from the tree line, aiming straight for the jumper and their friend.

Now, hours later, after Carson had satisfied himself that Rodney was no worse for wear and Radek would eventually heal from the wounds inflicted by Romal, all there was to do was wait. Rodney was envious that Carson and Joanne were able to busy themselves by tending to the wounded. For the first time, there was nothing for Rodney to do. A part of him wanted to flee, to run back to Atlantis before they uncovered John's body. But he couldn't leave. It wasn't just that they were down to one jumper, the second jumper having already returned to Atlantis with Lola, Jadaan and Samyrah after the convoy had picked up Lola's transmitter signal. Rodney kicked despondently at the dirt. No, when it came down to it, he couldn't leave for the simple fact that John was his best friend and he owed it to him to stay. He felt Radek sit down beside him.

"He may still be alive, Rodney," Radek said. "We cannot give up hope."

Rodney bit his lip. Unmanly tears were threatening to escape and it was taking all his concentration to keep them at bay. He shook his head. It had been hours already. No, this time John wasn't coming back. He heard Radek sigh, and the two friends sat there, waiting side by side, as the sun began its slow descent on the horizon.

* * *

For John, time reduced to setting one foot in front of the other. With each step the air seemed to get thinner, his vision a little darker, and the pain both sharper and more distant at the same time. Sheer willpower kept him stumbling forward until he finally found a door. He palmed the door control and stepped outside, blinking confusedly up at the bright sun.

He protectively gripped his chest with one arm, as if that would stop the broken bones from creaking and grinding. With the other, he shielded his eyes. Distantly he heard shouts and he realized the exit to the Ancient control room had deposited him just north of the castle. Wearily he blinked towards the sounds of the shouting, knowing instinctively if he wanted to continue to survive, he needed to hide from Romal's people. As his eyes sought out a place of refuge, it took him several moments to decipher what his eyes were seeing: a puddle jumper. He blinked again, wondering if he was seeing things, so desperate for his own people that his mind was conjuring up mirages.

Then he saw Carson exit the back of the jumper, Joanne at his side. Hope nearly split him open. They were real. They had to be real. He forced himself forward, first one foot, then the other. He couldn't suck in enough air to shout. His radio had broken in the initial fall into the Ancient control room. His only choice was to keep moving. The pain in his chest spiked and he could feel his breaths rattling wetly. He licked his lips and tasted blood.

The world began to spin and still he kept plodding onward. He could feel himself stumbling, his legs were shaking and still he pushed on until he was so close he could have tossed a rock at the jumper and hit it. Carson's back was to him. His legs gave out and he sank to his knees.

"Carson," he groaned, his vision graying out, he listed helplessly towards the ground.

He heard a yelp of surprise and then hands were on him, supporting his head and back, guiding him gently down. Then they were rolling him, sliding something hard and uncomfortable under his back.

John stared up at the sky. In what felt like seconds, his caregivers had divested him of his vest and shirt. Soothing voices asked him questions. Fingers poked and prodded his bare skin. He gasped as they hit a particularly tender spot on his ribcage and the sky darkened. It lightened somewhat when sweet oxygen swirled around his nose and mouth and he felt the hard edges of plastic against his face. There were sharp sticks in his hand and the crook of his elbow. Something wrapped uncomfortably tight around his bicep.

"Oh my god."

John turned his head towards the sound of Rodney's voice, which was about three octaves higher than normal.

"You're alive," Rodney stared down at him in shock.

John licked his lips, coughing slightly. Pain ratcheted across his chest. He focused on Rodney's face, struggling to speak.

"Easy, Colonel," Carson's worried voice cut in.

"I've got decreased breath sounds on the right, Doctor."

John stared at Rodney as Carson and Joanne fretted above him. He blinked tiredly. It really was getting harder to breathe.

He frowned, forced his lips to form words. "Saved…my own…ass."

"You blew yourself up you stupid idiot!" Rodney shrilled, sinking to his haunches. "Just shut up and keep breathing!"

He thought he heard a high pitched whine. Rodney yelling. Carson swearing. Then pain fled and all he knew was oblivion.

* * *

"Dammit!" Carson swore. "He's crashing! Let's get him in the jumper!"

Two Marines dashed forward, lifting the ends of the stretcher. As gently as they could, they moved their commander the few feet into the jumper.

"Easy," Carson warned, directing the Marines to place the colonel on the floor. Grabbing several bags of supplies, Carson knelt next to his patient. In the background, he heard Rodney yelling into his radio for the pilot and the rest of the Atlantians to fall back to the jumper.

Carson and Joanne moved as if they were of one mind. While she readied the colonel for a chest tube, gathering the needed supplies from one of the bags, he pulled out the ET tube kit. As John's heart faltered, Carson pulled off the oxygen mask, tipped his patient's head back and used the laryngoscope to part John's lips and guide the tube down into his windpipe. Snapping the ambu bag to the tube, he immediately began squeezing the much needed oxygen into the colonel's lungs.

Joanne looked up and nodded as she moved her stethoscope across John's chest. "We've got good placement on the ET tube."

"All right, let's get that chest tube in." Carson looked up, motioning Rodney over. "I need you to squeeze this bag every few seconds, do you understand?"

"What?" Rodney warbled, clutching his LSD to his chest in a panic.

"Now, Rodney," Carson snapped, letting go of the bag as Rodney took it, the scientist's fingers trembling.

Joanne slid gloves onto Carson's hands and then handed him a scalpel. She'd already doused John's right side with betadine and moved his right arm out of the way, arcing it over his head.

Carson took a deep breath. He placed two fingers directly over the seventh intercostal space and made a one inch incision through the skin and subcutaneous tissues. Joanne handed him a hemostat and he inserted it into the incision, working his way down to the rib. He continued to press down, using the hemostat to spread the tissues.

Dimly he heard Rodney make a sucking noise. "I'm gonna be sick," the scientist mumbled.

Too focused on saving John's life to respond, Carson continued to press in the hemostat until he reached the rib. Moving the hemostat over the rib, he continued his slow march to the pleural lining of John's lung.

He frowned in concentration until he felt the hemostat pop into the chest cavity. Continuing to apply pressure, he spread and enlarged the opening to make room for the tube. Joanne handed him the chest tube and he carefully guided it into the chest cavity, pushing it upwards towards John's shoulder. Satisfied he had good placement, he attached the chest tube to a one way valve that would expel the blood and air trapped in John's chest cavity into a Foley bag, allowing him to breathe.

"He's coming back," Joanne called out, her voice full of relief. "Pressure's up, heart rate's stabilizing. SAT's at 92."

Carson packed a dressing around the chest tube to keep it in place until he got John to the infirmary and could stitch it properly. Gently he patted his patient on the shoulder. "Good job, colonel," he murmured. "Hang in there, lad. We're almost home."

Carson settled himself on the floor of the jumper. They had the colonel stabilized, but there wasn't much more they could do until they got him back to Atlantis and under the scanner. He glanced at Joanne and couldn't help but smile. She sat cross legged on the colonel's other side, monitoring his vitals. Her red hair fell across her face and it struck Carson how glad he was that she was with him.

"Radek," Joanne motioned the scientist over. "I think Rodney's tiring. Can you take over for a while?"

"Of course," Radek nodded vigorously, carefully taking Rodney's place at John's head.

Rodney scrambled out of the way, sinking onto one of the benches.

"Give the bag a firm squeeze every couple seconds," Joanne explained to Radek.

Carson glanced up at Rodney. His face was paler than the colonel's. "Put your head between your legs, Rodney," Carson sympathetically directed the scientist. "It'll help with the lightheadedness."

Rodney did as he was told without argument, a testament to just how freaked out the man was.

"You did good, Rodney," Carson said softly.

"I told him he was going to need me to save his ass," Rodney said, his voice testy with nerves. "I want it on record that I was right." The scientist glanced up, his gaze falling on the tube poking out of his friend's chest. His face paled again.

"Head down, Rodney," Carson advised, hiding a slight smile. "What are his vitals, Joanne?"

"BP's holding," Joanne reported, her fingers on the underside of John's wrist. "Pulse is fast but getting stronger."

"We're at the gate," the pilot called. "Sending IDC now."

"Tell them we need a med team in the jumper bay," Carson ordered.

Carson gripped John's hand in his. He leaned down and spoke into the colonel's ear. "You're doing great, son. Don't give up. Keep fighting."

He caught Joanne's eye and saw that she was holding the colonel's other hand. And then the world disappeared into a lake of shimmery blue.

TBC


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Elizabeth stretched her arms over her head and tried to ease the kink in her back. Resettling herself in the chair she glanced at her watch. Carson had restricted John's visitors to one at a time and Elizabeth's shift was almost up. The only member of John's team that hadn't spent some of the past twenty four hours at John's bedside was Ronon, who was occupying a bed of his own at the other end of the infirmary. She had thought for sure Carson was going to have to restrain the Satedan to his bed, but the former runner had been sleeping soundly for the past twenty fours hours, a sleep aided, Elizabeth was sure, by something Carson was feeding into his I.V.

The privacy curtain twitched and Elizabeth smiled when Joanne stepped inside. The nurses had been frequent visitors up until a few hours ago when Carson had extended the vitals checks from every fifteen minutes to every hour. Elizabeth was glad to see one of her favorite nurses back on duty.

"How's our patient?" The red head's green eyes sparkled prettily as she pulled John's chart from the end of the bed.

"Carson says he's doing better," Elizabeth stood, moving next to the bed and resting her hands on the bed rails. She gazed down at her military commander. She hated seeing him so vulnerable, at the mercy of so many machines. "I have to admit I don't really see it."

"Looks scary, doesn't it?" Joanne squeezed Elizabeth's shoulder sympathetically. "But he is getting better, Dr. Weir." She pointed to the readings on the ventilator monitor. "Dr. Beckett has Colonel Sheppard on Pressure Support, that means that the colonel is breathing on his own, but the ventilator is helping him take larger breaths, see this reading here?" the nurse touched a set of numbers on the monitor. "Minimal support is five and total support is thirty," she explained. "Dr. Beckett has set Colonel Sheppard's support at 15."

"And that's good?" Elizabeth slipped her hand into John's, gently stroking the top of his hand with her thumb.

"It's good," Joanne nodded. "Patients at five or ten can usually breathe without the aid of a vent. Dr. Beckett's giving Colonel Sheppard a little extra support to take some of the burden off his lungs." The nurse made a notation in the chart. She moved to a different monitor. "Here you can see that Colonel Sheppard's oxygen saturation is holding at 96 percent, which means he's doing a great job at the current level of oxygen support." Joanne smiled at Elizabeth. "It wouldn't surprise me if Dr. Beckett removed the ventilator pretty soon."

Elizabeth tapped her fingers impatiently on the bedrail while Joanne took John's blood pressure. The nurse bit her lip in concern, making her notation in the chart before turning back to Elizabeth to explain.

"His pressure's a little low. But it's not surprising considering everything his body's been through. It does mean the internal bleeding hasn't yet resolved itself, so we're going to have to keep watching it closely." Joanne readied a thermometer and then gently inserted the tip into one of John's ears.

"What if the bleeding doesn't resolve itself?" Elizabeth asked worriedly.

The thermometer beeped and Joanne checked the reading, smiling at Elizabeth. "Temp's normal, that's good." The nurse made her notation then set the chart down, looked at Elizabeth and sighed. "If it doesn't stop on its own, Dr. Beckett will have to fix it surgically, but let's not cross that bridge until we come to it." She saw Elizabeth glance down at the Foley catheter bag attached to the underside of John's bed. "And don't read too much into that."

"Even I know blood in the urine is a bad thing," Elizabeth involuntarily squeezed John's hand.

"It's expected when there's been a bad bruise," Joanne reassured her. "Colonel Sheppard's kidneys are still functioning, and that's a good thing. We just want to see that color start to turn more pink than red."

Elizabeth nodded, biting her lip. She watched as the nurse listened to John's heart and lungs with her stethoscope, pulled the dressings back and examined the chest tube insertion site and then checked the drainage receptacle. After making several more notations on the chart, Joanne replaced it at the bottom of the bed.

"So?" Elizabeth asked quietly. "How is he?"

"He's in critical condition, Dr. Weir," Joanne's green eyes were grave. "But he's stable. And right now, that's a victory."

Elizabeth leaned over the bed, gently brushing John's hair off his forehead. It was an intimacy he would never allow when conscious and she felt slightly guilty taking advantage, but she figured this would go down in the column of what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him… "I guess I'll take my victories where I can find them," she murmured. "Keep fighting, John. Don't give up." She glanced up at the monitors and this time found reassurance in the numbers flashing on the screens. She caught Joanne just as the nurse was about to slip quietly out of the cubicle.

"Joanne," Elizabeth called out softly. "Thank you."

"Your welcome, Dr. Weir," the redhead nodded. "I'm here if you need me."

Elizabeth nodded, curled up in her chair and went back to watching the monitors while she waited for Teyla to relieve her.

OoOoOoOoOo

Something was poking him in the ribs. It hurt, and he tried to move away from it. The pain intensified. It reminded him of when he was a kid and his brother Dave used to jab him in the ribs, his strong fingers digging in until John finally squirmed, yielding by saying the magic words.

"I eat buggers," John mumbled. "L'eggo Dave." He tried to bat away Dave's offending fingers, but his arm didn't work right and before he could move it down to his chest where the hurt was coming from, he felt someone catch his hand, squeezing it gently before raising it back to its place near his head.

"What did he just say?" A puzzled voice sounded from above him. He recognized that voice. Teyla.

"I think he just said he eats buggers." Someone answered with a chuckle. Carson. "John, can you hear me, son? It's time to wake up now."

"Mmmph, shstop," John groaned as someone tapped him annoyingly on the cheek.

"Not until you let me see your eyes, Colonel," Carson replied, continuing to torment him.

John peeled his eyes open. He tried to glare but only ended up squinting against the bright lights. He blinked painfully until finally Carson and Teyla came into focus.

"You're awake," Teyla smiled.

"Hey," he croaked, licking at painfully dry lips. The pain in his ribcage wasn't abating, so he tried to shift positions. Fire spiked in his chest and he forgot how to breathe. A loud beeping sound lanced through his head.

Carson removed the nasal cannula and pressed a mask to his face. "Easy, Colonel," his doctor soothed, his blue eyes never breaking eye contact. "Take nice, slow breaths. You have a chest tube and it's going to hurt. I'll get you some pain meds in a moment."

John gasped for breath. He felt like a fish flopping helplessly on dry land. Tears sprang to his eyes, leaking down his cheeks. God it hurt. He felt Teyla grip his hand and he couldn't help it. He squeezed back. Hard. He forced himself to take one breath at a time. Finally the alarm quieted. Without comment Teyla gently stroked his face, wiping away his tears with her thumb. He was in too much pain to be embarrassed. He felt a flush of heat in his hand and he knew the promised pain meds had been delivered.

Gratefully he slipped into the darkness.

He thought he woke several more times. He had dim memories of his friends offering words of comfort, holding his hand or squeezing his shoulder as the pain reached unbearable levels, and then Carson's good drugs rushed through his body and made it all go away.

But this time when he woke he felt a little more lucid. The pain was still there, but it seemed slightly less intense. He blinked his eyes open. He was in a corner of the infirmary, a privacy curtain pulled around his bed. Ronon sat in a chair at his side, wearing a set of infirmary scrubs.

"Hey," John said. His voice sounded like gravel. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Ronon shot a dark look towards the main infirmary. "Doc won't let me leave yet. You seem stronger this time."

"What happened?" John rasped. He was afraid to move, remembering the pain the attempt had caused before.

"You got the crap beat out of you," Ronon answered.

"Bastard had a personal shield," John grimaced. His back was beginning to ache and he squirmed slightly, immediately stopping at the shot of pain that lanced through his chest.

"I'll get the doc. Hang on," Ronon said, disappearing outside of the curtain.

John stared up at the ceiling. He could hear his heart beating, just a little too fast. He tried to take a couple deep breaths and slow it down.

"Colonel Sheppard," Carson stepped into the cubicle, followed by Joanne. He smiled down at his patient. "How are you feeling?"

"Like crap," John whispered painfully. Joanne slipped an ice chip between his lips and he sucked on it gratefully.

"Unfortunately that's to be expected," Carson said sympathetically.

"Just need to take your temperature, Sir," Joanne lightly touched John's shoulder.

Obediently he turned his head so she could insert the tip of the thermometer in his ear. He lay quietly until the thermometer finally beeped and Joanne removed it.

"98.6. That's great Colonel." The pretty redhead beamed down at him.

While his nurse conducted the rest of his vitals check, John glanced quizzically over at Carson. "So what's the damage," he asked, although from the number of monitors his doctor was currently studying he could guess things had gotten quite serious. He'd already felt the blood pressure cuff inflate around his left arm. A pulse ox monitor was clamped around his left index finger. From the cramping in his left hand and wrist, he guessed he had multiple IV lines. A nasal cannula chafed against his nose, but considering every breath felt like he was getting a knife in the chest, he wasn't going to complain about the oxygen support.

To be honest, he found himself completely overwhelmed and he heard his heart rate quicken in response. He hated that his private emotions could so easily be put on public display. He felt his face burn with embarrassment, but if Carson and Joanne noticed his discomfiture, they gracefully ignored it.

Carson settled himself on the stool by his bed, spooning another cube of ice into John's mouth. "You broke two ribs, one of which punctured your lung. We put in a chest tube, which is why it hurts so much to breathe. One of your kidneys was bruised resulting in internal bleeding, although that looks like it's resolving itself without the need for surgery. And last but not least, you have a mild concussion."

"Can you take the tube out?" John hated the pleading in his voice, but damn the thing hurt like hell.

"Sorry, son," Carson shook his head regretfully. "Not for another day or two at least. We have to make sure your lung has fully expanded and is going to stay that way."

"How long have I been out?" John grated out, the aches and pains in his body beginning to speak more loudly with every passing second. He winced, closing his hands into fists.

"About four days," Carson said slowly. "You gave us quite a scare on the way back here, but once we got in the chest tube you stabilized. We've kept you sedated because of the pain."

"It hurts like a son of a bitch," John admitted, closing his eyes.

"I know, son," Carson said. "I'll get you something for that. You're going to be fine, but the best thing you can do now is rest."

Joanne handed Carson a plastic topped syringe. The doctor efficiently swabbed John's I.V. port with an alcohol pad. Uncapping the syringe with his teeth, he injected the meds into the I.V.

"How's that lad? Better?" Carson asked softly.

"Better," John sighed, his eyelids drooping.

"Sleep, Colonel Sheppard." Carson patted his patient's shoulder reassuringly. "Someone will be here when you wake up."

"Mm..kay," John mumbled sleepily, letting the meds pull him under.

The clacking of computer keys woke him up. He blinked up at the ceiling, his brow furrowing as he tried to focus. The clacking stopped.

"Are you awake?" Rodney folded down the laptop and clutched it to his chest like a protective shield. He eyed the colonel anxiously. "Do you need more pain meds?" He thrust his head through the privacy curtain and shouted, "Carson! Get over here! Carson!"

"Rodney!" John yelped painfully, his head throbbing. "Shut up already."

"Oh," Rodney clamped his mouth shut. "Sorry." He bounced on his feet, trying to look anywhere other than where the tubes snaked out from under the bedcovers. He'd never forget watching Carson shove that huge tube into his friend's chest. The thing had to be an inch in diameter. He swallowed, feeling himself turning green.

"Rodney, you okay?" John drawled, looking at him with concern.

"Fine. I'm fine." Rodney tightened his grip around the laptop.

John closed his eyes, willing the throbbing in his head to recede.

Rodney bit his lower lip and then looked haughtily at John. "You know, you really shouldn't talk like that to the person who saved your life."

"Excuse me?" John cracked one eye open and glared at the scientist.

"Carson shoved that tube down your throat and I squeezed that thing," Rodney mimicked squeezing the ambu bag, "so you'd have brain function and could still be MENSA. Without me, you'd be a drooling idiot. So you should be grateful…"

John's glare intensified.

"You have friends…" Rodney gulped, backing up a step. Even bedridden, John looked lethal. "Who will do that for you," he finished lamely.

"Rodney?" John growled.

"Yes?" Rodney clutched his laptop.

"Thank you," John smiled, his eyes glittering mischievously.

Rodney stared suspiciously at the smirking colonel. He lowered his laptop. "You should really be grateful I didn't throw up on you when Carson was inserting that chest tube. Which by the way was the most disgusting thing I've ever witnessed in my life and you know I've seen some pretty disgusting things in this galaxy, let me tell you…"

"Rodney," John moaned pathetically, tossing his head on the pillow. "Stop!"

Rodney sank into the chair. "You know I really…" his voice trailed off; he looked down at the floor, scuffing it with his foot. "I really thought you were dead this time Sheppard."

"Yeah well, for a second I thought I was too," John admitted weakly. He closed his eyes, suddenly feeling lightheaded. In the background he thought he heard Rodney screaming again for Carson, but he was too tired to complain this time. Something was pressed to his face and there was a flood of air at his mouth and nose. The haziness started to subside.

"Don't try to talk Colonel Sheppard, just breathe," Carson patted the pilot on the shoulder. "We're going to leave the mask on for a bit until your SAT's come back up. You should start feeling better in a moment."

John slowly opened his eyes. Rodney was gaping at him from the bottom of the bed.

"I'm fine, Rodney," John tried to reassure the freaked scientist, his voice muffled by the mask. He tried to pull it off but Carson caught his hand and pushed it back down to the bed.

"You always say that," Rodney shook his head. "And you never are."

John watched helplessly as his friend fled. "Rodney," he called after him. He moved to sit up and then cried out in pain as the attempt jostled the tube in his chest. "For God's sake, Carson, can you just get this thing outta me?" he wheezed angrily.

"No!" Carson glowered down at his patient.

John clenched his fist and feebly punched the bed in frustration.

"Feel better?" Carson quirked an eyebrow at him.

"No," John whispered.

"You will in time," Carson said softly, his hand on John's shoulder. "You all will in time."

Carson pulled a syringe out of his pocket, smoothly injecting it into one of John's I.V.'s. Sitting down in the chair Rodney had vacated, he kept an eye on the monitors until John's heart rate and BP finally settled, and the injured pilot dropped into an uneasy sleep. When John's SAT's came back up, he swapped out the mask for a nasal cannula, and then retook his seat until Teyla arrived to take his place.

OoOoOoOo

John lay on his back on the scanner table. Things were looking up. Carson had decided he could take out the chest tube and had promised him the catheter would go in the next day or two.

"You ready Colonel?" Carson grinned down at him.

"Let's do this," John nodded firmly.

As Carson gloved up, Joanne took John's right hand and raised it above his head, holding it there.

"Okay, right before I pull the tube out, I'll need you to hold your breath," Carson explained. "I'll tell you when."

"Okay," John breathed, licking his suddenly dry lips. A flicker of nervousness passed over him. The tube had been the cause of so much pain over the past five days, making every breath searing. He wanted it gone but wasn't looking forward to the process.

"It'll be over before you know it," Joanne said softly. She squeezed his shoulder warmly with her free hand.

John nodded, closing his eyes and steeling himself for what was to come.

"Okay John," Carson's hands hovered over his chest. "Hold your breath."

John complied. He felt Carson pull firmly on the tube. Reflexively he clenched his hands into fists, his fingers tightening around Joanne's. Again he felt her hand on his shoulder, and then the tube was moving. And then it was out. He took several breaths and fought the urge to cry in relief. Already he felt better than he had since he'd woken up that first time.

"Not too bad, right?" Carson winked at his patient as he applied a bandage to his side.

"No, just a little…weird," John sighed. "But better now. Thank you."

"Good," Carson smiled. "We're going to run a scan and make sure the lung is properly remaining expanded." He glanced up at Joanne. "And let's do vitals checks every fifteen minutes for the next four hours."

Joanne squeezed John's hand as she moved it back down to his side. He squeezed it back and caught it, pulling her toward him. He caught and held her green eyes with his hazel ones. "Thank you, Joanne."

"Just doing my job, Sir," she replied quietly, gently disentangling her fingers from her patient's hand.

"Carson's a lucky man," John murmured. He grinned when the blush caught her cheeks, turning them a fiery red.

"Thank you," the nurse stammered in embarrassment. Stepping away from the scanner table, she focused all her concentration on making the latest notations in John's chart.

John breathed deeply as the scanner moved over him. "Hey Doc," he called out.

"Yes Colonel?" Carson answered.

"When can I go back to my quarters?" John asked.

Carson audibly groaned and John smiled in content. Sometimes pushing Carson's buttons was enough to make his day.

OoOoOoO

John shifted in his bed. When the catheter had come out two days ago he'd graduated to scrubs. He was now nearly tube free; only an I.V. remained in the back of one hand and Carson had promised him he'd consider releasing him to his quarters within the week. All in all he was feeling human again, and he was ready to get on with his life. Carson had moved him to the main ward several days ago but there were only three other occupants in the infirmary at the moment. Major Lorne slept most of the time, though John had engaged Private Banks and Lieutenant Myers, along with two of the nurses, in a game of Killer Bunnies. Spoilsport Carson had put a halt to their game after John had caused a ruckus by nuking every bunny within a two seat radius of him. John tapped his fingers restlessly on the bed and came to the conclusion that he was bored out of his mind.

His eyes lit up when he saw Teyla crossing the infirmary floor. "Hey Teyla!"

"Hello John," the Athosian smiled. "You look much better."

"I am much better," John nodded. He cast a glance around the infirmary and grimaced. "To be honest I could use a change of scenery."

"Do you think you would be up for a visit to the East balcony?" Teyla's eyes sparkled. Carson had practically begged her to take John off his hands for a while. She grabbed a wheelchair and pushed it next to John's bed.

"Oh god yes," John shoved the covers off his legs. He debated arguing about the wheelchair, but if he was honest about the shape he was in, he had to admit he got fatigued simply walking around the infirmary.

While John got situated in the wheelchair, Teyla unhooked the I.V. bag from the pole next to John's bed and moved it to the pole attached to the chair, making sure to keep the line untangled. She spread a blanket over John's legs.

"Would you be up for another visitor?" Teyla asked as she pushed John out of the infirmary and down the hallway.

"Who did you have in mind?" John asked curiously. His team members had been to see him often, even Rodney, although both men were simply pretending the scientist's outburst the other day had never happened. John didn't consider his friends "visitors" in the strict sense of the word. They were family.

"Jahmela was hoping to get a chance to talk to you," Teyla explained.

"Sure," John nodded. "How are they doing?"

"They're adjusting," Teyla answered. "The children were quite overcome when they saw their mother for the first time. They are now deciding where they want to go."

"I guess they can't go back home, huh?" John asked.

"King Duncan has offered them amnesty, but the anger towards their family is great. Romal was fished out of that Ancient Control Room you both fell into. They hanged him the next day." Teyla filled him in.

"Hanging might have been too good for him," John noted darkly.

"I think Radek would agree with you," Teyla said lightly.

The two friends dropped into comfortable silence as they wound their way through Atlantis' halls to the balcony, stopping every so often so John could talk briefly with some of the men and women under his command as they passed by.

When they entered the balcony, Jahmela was already there, staring out at the water. She turned when she heard the door slide open.

"Hi Jahmela," John smiled warmly. "How are you?"

"I'm very well," the girl inclined her head. "And you, Colonel Sheppard?"

"Getting better every day," John shrugged. "Thanks for asking. What can I do for you?"

"I wanted to thank you for protecting my brother, for returning our mother to us, for saving our lives," Jahmela blinked back tears. "We owe everything to you."

"There's no need," John said, his voice rough. "Without you and Jadaan, Lorne and Ronon would be dead. Without your mother, so would Radek and Lola. There's a good chance none of us would have made it off your world alive. So we're even, got it?"

"Got it." Jahmela nodded, drying her tears. She turned back toward the water.

With Teyla's help, John pulled himself out of the chair. He leaned against the railing.

"Does the city always…hum?" the girl asked hesitantly.

"She does," John smiled, running a hand over the balcony rail. "It's pretty amazing isn't it?"

"She is," Jahmela agreed softly.

John glanced at the young girl. She had her eyes closed, her face to the sky, as if she was listening to something. He smiled and closed his eyes, letting Atlantis' hum fill his mind, feeling the answering thrum of his body. He may have been born in another galaxy, but in Atlantis John knew he'd found a home.

OoOoOoOo

_Two weeks later…_

John dangled his legs over the side of the pier and looked out at the water. He was getting stronger every day, but Carson had made it clear he wasn't even to attempt to lift or pull anything for at least another week. He'd discovered the hard way that pushing himself led to heart palpitations and light headedness. It seemed his body was determined to make him take his recovery slowly. But at least he was out of the infirmary and able to heal in the privacy of his own quarters.

His team, Elizabeth and Radek were sprawled around him. His friends had staged an impromptu picnic for him on the pier, knowing he was going stir crazy from the enforced bed rest. Lorne was supposed to join them, but he'd been hit with a migraine and was currently sleeping it off in his quarters. But the major was healing, and that was all that mattered. Silence had fallen over the little group, although no one seemed to mind it, not even Rodney. A memorial service had been scheduled two days from now for all those who had fallen on M66 P39. It had been delayed until John and Lorne were well enough to attend.

"How is Jahmela's family doing?" Teyla asked Elizabeth, breaking the silence.

"Wonderfully," Elizabeth's dark eyes sparkled. "Ladria says they're settling in quite well. Samyrah and Jahmela are both helping her with the clinic. Apparently Erol has been teaching Jadaan and Danika how to ride."

"That's great," John nodded enthusiastically. "We'll have to take a trip out there to check on them one day soon."

"Kirk," Rodney scowled accusatorily, remembering Ladria's fascination with the colonel.

"You're just jealous, McKay," John smirked.

"Whatever," Rodney glared at John. "I'm going back to the lab. Some of us have important work to do."

"Hey, are we still on for that game of chess later?" John hopefully eyed the crotchety scientist.

"Yes," Rodney muttered, hauling himself to his feet. "I'll bring the popcorn."

"Excellent," John grinned. "See you later."

Rodney waved and then trotted off down the pier. As if by agreement, Teyla and Elizabeth both stood up as well.

"I better get going, too," Elizabeth said, gathering up the remains of the picnic lunches and tossing them in a garbage bag. "Reports to file and all that."

"I need to get going as well," Teyla smiled warmly at John. "I have a stick fighting session with Lt. Taylor this afternoon."

"Don't hurt him too badly," John grinned impudently.

"I will try not to," Teyla smiled and inclined her head towards the colonel. "I'll see you at dinner?"

"I'll be there," John nodded. "Not like I'm doing much of anything these days."

"Healing takes time," Teyla reminded him.

"Uh huh," John grumbled. When the two women had walked away, and just John, Radek and Ronon were left on the pier, John exchanged a glance with the former runner.

Radek stared quietly out at the water. His eyes were haunted and John didn't need the scientist to tell him he wasn't sleeping well. It was evident on his weary face.

"How you doing, Radek?" John asked softly.

Radek shrugged. He could still hear the screams of his team members in his mind. He dreamt about their deaths. He figured he always would. He knew if anyone could understand what he was going through, these two men would, and yet he had difficulty verbalizing what he was feeling.

"It'll get better," Ronon said roughly. "It doesn't seem like it now, but it will."

"Ronon's right," John added mildly. "And we're here if…you know…you ever need to…you know…talk….or…anything like that."

"Sometimes it helps to just hit things," Ronon offered.

"Or shoot something," John added helpfully.

"Or blow things up," Ronon grinned.

"Yeah, we could arrange that," John nodded.

"I'll keep that in mind," Radek found himself chuckling. Both men were trying so hard to make it better. He just didn't know if anyone could.

"You know," John said hesitantly. "If you said anything to Romal when you were being tortured that compromised Atlantis, it's nothing to feel ashamed of. When you experience such pain, you'll do anything to make it stop. It's understandable."

"What do you mean?" Radek looked at John, puzzled.

"The codes," John prompted gently. "Someone gave Romal IDC codes to Atlantis. He told me."

"No," Radek shook his head violently. "I'd never betray Atlantis. Never. Samyrah and I gave him the wrong codes. The second he'd tried to use them…." Radek smiled fiercely. "Squish." He motioned with his hands. "Against the shield."

Ronon howled with laughter. "Nicely done, Radek," he said, punching the scientist on the shoulder.

"Thank you." Radek winced, rubbing his sore shoulder.

"Radek, you never cease to amaze me," John grinned.

The three men fell into a comfortable silence.

"I thought I was going to die. There was a point where I welcomed it." Radek finally broke the silence. "I don't know why I didn't, and the others did."

"The thing is," John said softly. "There's no good answer to that question. When you accept that, you'll be ready to move on."

"Do you accept that?" Radek asked haltingly.

"Sometimes," John replied honestly. "Some days are better than others."

"That's usually when it helps to blow something up," Ronon noted.

Radek nodded and gazed down at the water.

"We're here anytime you need us," John reminded him quietly.

"We should probably head back." Ronon swung himself gracefully to his feet, holding a hand out to help John up. He glanced over at Radek. "You coming?"

"Not yet," Radek replied. "In a little bit."

"You should come by my quarters later. Watch me beat the pants off McKay in chess," John chuckled. "Good times."

"I will be there," Radek smiled back. It would take him a long time to get past all that had happened, but he knew he would. How could he not, he thought, with friends like these.

"Hold up," John motioned Ronon, halfway up the pier. He gazed up at the city's spires. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" John murmured.

"Yeah," Ronon agreed. He didn't have the connection to the city John did, but he couldn't deny that Atlantis was magnificent.

"Okay," John finally said, "Let's go."

He was ready to get back to his life, ready to get back to exploring this galaxy with this wondrous city and his family at his back. He was ready for the next adventure, whatever it might bring.

The End

A/N: For those of you not familiar with the awesome board game Killer Bunnies, the goal of the game is to kill everyone else's bunnies while keeping your own alive as you collect magic carrots to win the game. Best game ever.

I want to thank everyone who stuck with this story to the end. I really hope you enjoyed it. I want to thank everyone who alerted this story or made it a favorite. A special thanks to all those who left reviews. Getting feedback always brightens my day.

I want to take this opportunity thank my beta Rink Rat for all her hard work editing this huge piece of work. I tinkered a lot with this last chapter after she went through it. Anything mistakes are entirely my fault.


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